Only the Winchesters
by k-smith1983
Summary: One seemingly normal night, Sam and Dean are kidnapped and chained up, forced to endure something that will undeniably upturn their worlds forever. Maybe or maybe not for the better. Warnings inside at beginning of each chapter.
1. You and Me and no Room to Breathe

A/U: This story will contain mpreg and possibly wincest in later chapters and I feel I should warn you now in case you start it and then hate it later. Though I have been adamantly against the whole idea of mpreg for...well forever, I recently read a really great story that changed my mind and thought I'd take a stab at it myself:). Hope you guys like.

Warnings: Milking - if you don't know what it is, well, look it up?:) - bad words (f-bomb quite a few times I won't lie) and angst as always..

Xx

Sam took a heavy, unforgiving plop down on to the bar stool, more than a little aggravated Dean had dragged him out for the night _directly_ after a particularly grueling hunt with a particularly _merciless _werewolf.

"Dean I'm pretty sure they're gonna toss as out soon as we try and order something. I mean look at us, man. Red's a good color on you but somethin' tells me they won't appreciate it as blood, _covering_ your shirt." Sam huffed resting onto the bar with his forearms, "Let's just go."

"Sammy shut your trap." Dean snapped pulling his jacket tighter around his chest in attempt to hide the blood Sam had mentioned, "I need a drink dude, quit complaining for once in your damn life." He sighed, only then realizing just how on edge they both seemed to be. _All the more reason for a drink_, he thought. "Loosen up. You're seventeen, you're supposed to be excited you can be in a bar." Dean encouraged a moment later, giving Sam a halfhearted punch to the shoulder.

Sam just grunted and shrugged away, "Not the first time I've been in a bar, Dean. You made sure of that a long time ago."

"And did I ever hear a thank you?" Sam just shook his head, scoffing. Dean was still getting nowhere with his silent little brother four beers and two whiskey shots later.

God Sam knew exactly how to get under his skin. Dean was so glad this hunt was over, now that the town was rid of the werewolf infestation maybe they could quit snapping at each other – Dean knew how much his brother hated werewolves, to say it'd been putting a strain on things… it was just a mild understatement.

"Fine Sam!" Dean finally broke throwing his hands up in the air, "You win. Go back to the motel, sit in the dark and listen to that fuckin' emo shit for all I care. I'm tired of you killing my buzz." He snipped, fishing through his pockets to whip out the keys and shove them at his brother. When he felt Sam hesitate in snatching them away, he pulled his gaze up and met his brother's, surprised at what he saw there.

Sam looked kind of shocked at the outburst, his eyes wide and innocent and confused, "But I'm-" He looked down at his half full beer, "I'm not done." His voice was so bewildered and high pitched he sounded five years old again whipping out the glazed puppy dog look and everything. Now Dean was confused, "I was just drinkin' like you wanted me to. Jeez, what'd I do." He muttered taking the keys as he began sliding off the bar stool.

"Wait Sam." Dean shook his head as if to clear out the confusion, "I- you said you wanted to go back, and then you just sat there. Thought you were still mad, you know pulling the usual Sam routine: pout, mope, and brood until you get your way?"

Sam just shook his head, "Just drinking man."

He laughed and waved Sam back over, "Well then come here. You don't have to go if you don't want to." Dean chuckled a little again, kind of giddy, and took his turn to be a little shocked. He'd totally misread his brother. The one who apparently _wanted_ to drink tonight. Both things that never happened.

Sam took a ginger seat back in the stool and glanced wearily at Dean, expecting the unexpected as he reclaimed his beer and took a timid gulp. Dean tried to relax into the unusual atmosphere, wanting to somehow encourage Sam to stay - now that he'd almost ruined his chance at actually drinking with his brother for once - without frightening him off.

"You gonna baby that beer all night Samantha or you wanna gently remove that tampon of yours and actually _drink _with me for once?" Dean quipped with a smirk, half expecting to anger him again but possibly taunt him into finishing the beer he'd been sipping for an hour. Surprisingly though, Sam didn't fume or storm off and to Dean's great appreciation, gave a weak chuckle and raised his brow shrugging in a 'what-the-hell' kinda gesture before downing the rest of his drink in a few swallows. He set the empty glass back down on the bar and Dean waved for two more, both beer and whiskey, before turning back to Sam with a mischievous smirk.

"You're lucky I don't have school tomorrow." Sam muttered, eying the drinks the bartender slipped across the counter.

Two hours later both brothers were sufficiently inebriated and stumbling out of the bar reeking of blood and sweat and lots of alcohol.

"I'm real glad we did this big brother." Sam slurred with a fat goofy grin as he threw an arm over his shorter brother's shoulders. "Real glad."

Dean laughed and slapped Sam on the chest, "Always were a happy drunk."

"I've only been drinkin' like a year!" Sam cried indignantly, "'N I'm not drunk." He slurred lazily, catching his toe in the gravel of the parking lot and nearly face-planting and dragging them both down as Dean doubled over in rumbling, drunken laughter.

The banter went on as they searched for the Impala in the crowded parking lot, stumbling and tripping over each other as they weaved through the crowded lanes.

"Where the hell is she?" Dean muttered stopping and breaking off from Sam as he twirled in a clumsy circle, brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate and keep the world steady in his search.

He was so intently focused on finding his baby he didn't notice when Sam disappeared from behind him in the clutches of a stranger. A cloaked figure who discretely held a dirty rag over his nose and mouth, knocking Sam out almost immediately with the chloroform he sucked in. Ten seconds later, Dean still hadn't realized Sam was gone and he didn't get the chance to before the rag was over his mouth, pulling him into the depths of unconsciousness right along side his brother.

Dean had a lot of difficulty remembering exactly what had happened when he finally came to three hours later. He figured it was the alcohol because the last thing he could recall was drinking with Sam at the bar. As he slowly emerged from the fog in his mind though, a few things began registering: he was freezing and there was a steady ache in his shoulders and groin.

_What the fuck._

Then he remembered the rag and the distinct, sickeningly sweet smell of chloroform being the last thing he recognized before he passed out. He snapped his head up from where it had been lolling across his chest and realized with a start that he was vertical, standing. Or…no, chained at his wrists and hanging from the low ceiling, hence the throbbing in his shoulders. And he was almost stark naked, stripped to nothing but his boxers, he then understood the cold.

Natural instinct had him trying to get his feet under him to get the pressure off his shoulders and stand, but with a gentle yank, he realized they too were chained. Spread wide enough apart that the rapid fire growing in his groin suddenly made sense. Whoever these people, or things, were they wanted him as helpless as they could get him.

"Sam?" He tried to yell out, the sound pulling him the rest of the way from the haze as he noticed with a start that the sound had been nothing more than a muffled garble.

_Shit._

They'd gagged him too.

"Ah," An oily voice responded, definitely not his brother's, "You're awake. Glad…to see that." A man said from somewhere in the dark room, overly breathy with his words. Dean was immediately fueled with unrelenting rage as he was confronted with the man who'd strung him up; he emerged from the shadows in a corner of the room. His sunken, wrinkled face and awkward lanky frame matched the creepy burr of his voice.

"You're partner…Jean J. Wilson," The man emerged further from the darkness and approached Dean, waving a small card in his hand. Sam's 'ID', he finally recognized: the fake one that'd gotten him into the bar earlier, "He's here. Don't worry." The man drawled in that same breathless hiss and as if on cue lights flickered to life all around them. The flame in the pit of Dean's stomach was fueled when he was greeted with the sight of his brother, in much the same position as Dean hanging from his arms, chained at his ankles and in nothing more than his boxers. He squinted further and noticed a dark red line running down the length of his abs directly below Sam's navel, Dean didn't think he could get any angrier. All he saw was red. But Sam was still unconscious, and Dean couldn't help but be grateful for that.

Dean shook his head vigorously trying to get rid of the gag as his first instinct was to run to his brother and make sure he was alright.

_What'd you do to him?_ Dean thought disgustedly as his eyes squinted and his brow furrowed, conveying his fury to the man still standing before him.

"He's okay." The man seemed to understand the silent question as he sauntered over to Sam who was steadily becoming easier to see through the fog still fading from Dean's mind, "Standard procedure," He said and Dean had no idea what he was talking about, but the man laughed at the private joke. He lifted his hand and rubbed the back on his index finger above the red line that looked to be a stitched up surgical cut.

_Ah shit, what the hell kinda crazy have we stepped in now Sammy._ The elder brother thought as he growled, telekinetically fighting against the man's touch on his younger brother.

"Don't like that much do ya…Mr. Cox." The man tilted his head to the side as he swept around to face Dean again. It almost made him want to laugh seeing how smug this guy felt trying to rub in the fact that he knew his 'name'. "Jason R. Cox, to be…precise." He huffed excitedly, the guy was really starting to put Dean's nerves on edge.

"Oh, he's awake." A different, surprised voice sounded from the same dark corner this man had appeared from. Dean made note that, if the opportunity came and somehow they broke free, that corner would be their best chance at escape, whatever exit this place had was there.

"Yes, boy. Come in." The elder offered pleasantly, beckoning.

"Wow," The younger man whispered taking a closer look at Dean, "He really is beautiful." He muttered turning to look at Sam, "Oh." He said in what could only be surprise, "God, when you said they were perfect I didn't think you meant it literally." He continued, glancing at the older man a couple times as he approached him, "The muscles alone." Dean rumbled again shaking his head and yanking against the chains as the guy ran his hand over Sam's chest, "I'm sure this one will survive."

_Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

They needed to get out of here _now_.

"By the way," The older began, "You disposed of the others, correct?" The younger nodded, returning his attention to Sam. Dean's stomach rolled.

"Good, good." He nodded, "I want that award." The expression on the older man's weathered face darkened in longing.

"And I want that Pulitzer doctor. We'll both get what's coming, don't worry. I have a feeling these two will work." The younger man nodded.

_Doctor? Pulitzer? Wasn't that a prize for journalists or something? What's a doctor and a writer doing kidnapping, __chaining up and _disposing_ of people?_ God, this day had gone from totally exhausting to pretty good to really fucking shitty fast enough to make Dean's head spin and he still wasn't finding any way out of the nightmare.

"Well, then, he's awake. Should we start?" The younger man asked, Dean's stomach doing little twists and flips of anxiety at the words.

The doctor nodded, "Make sure he stays out for the next step," He gestured to Sam, "I don't want him screaming all day and night."

"Uh, sir." The man interjected, suddenly very nervous, "I-I'm sorry. We're out of anesthetics. I asked Charlie to get more but he hasn't returned." The doctor's face darkened to a purplish shade of red, "I'm sure he'll stay unconscious for a while though, we hit him pretty hard with the last of it." The younger backtracked in response, trying his best to be reassuring.

"You better hope so." He sneered, panting all breathy again. His voice was making Dean's skin crawl.

Then he disappeared to the shaded corner and rolled out a surgical tray from it. "For you," He began, "This won't be quite as unpleasant." He said staring down Dean with a wicked sneer.

Dean just growled again and tried to back up uselessly. All the sudden a tall blonde sauntered in wearing a big fury knee length coat and tall black stilettos. Dean's jaw might've dropped had they been meeting under different circumstances, the girl was hands down the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. All gentle curves and tan skin and big pouty lips, but as it was, Sam was strung up and unconscious fifteen feet away, his whole body was thrumming in pain and they currently seemed to be surrounded by psychopaths – she was having no effect on him. But she walked right up to him anyway, sparing only a fleeting glance and wink toward the doctor, and stopped only when she was a hair's breadth away from Dean's face.

"We're gonna have fun baby." She whispered in his ear. He fought the urge to swing his head and knock her out, the ingrained rule to never hit women the only thing stopping him.

And then she wasted no time shoving her hand down his boxers and gripping his flaccid cock hard in her dainty hand.

_Oh, what the fuck. _Dean protested trying to yell through the gag as he thrashed against the uninvited touch. But she just shushed him and squeezed tighter, pulling her fist up around the head to twist.

His body didn't give an inch though, he noted proudly enough. There wasn't so much as a twitch of interest and he remained soft in her hand for a good few minutes before she obviously decided this wasn't going to work. Dean thought maybe he'd staved her off, but that was wishful thinking for a Winchester. Of course she didn't back off, she upped the ante.

She took a careful, graceful step back, trying to be sexy again and brought her manicured hands up to her long fur coat, sliding it down over her shoulders.

Not surprisingly, considering what she'd just been doing, the woman was wearing nothing but red, lace lingerie underneath and was completely comfortable revealing the fact. She tossed the jacket to the floor and it pooled against the hard cement between Dean's spread legs. She knelt down on top of it and tugged on his boxers until they revealed his most coveted, personal possession for the world to see and glanced up at him with what she tried to make look like seductive, heavy lidded eyes. Now he really wanted to knock her out, woman or not.

But again, she wasted not a second in taking him in her practiced mouth and trying to work him to climax, or at least erection. And again, his body refused to respond, not surprisingly.

Was she stupid? He was _scared, _chained up with a bunch of bat-shit crazy, unpredictable _humans_ and in pain. His shoulders felt like they'd give any minute, and his groin was so severely over-stretched his legs were going numb. There was no way he could be getting pleasure from anything right now except getting the hell out of there. But she kept working none the less for another couple minutes, apparently not easily discouraged.

_What the hell did they need his seed for anyway? _Dean seethed to himself. This was all too confusing and fucked up for him to process correctly, if at all, and Dean could only hang there, trying to plot some way of escape.

She released him with a huff when she saw this would get her nowhere fast and she stood back up to be level with Dean's eye.

"Alright honey, obviously you've got some serious will power or incredible stamina but don't think 'cause this isn't working," She gestured vaguely to Dean still obscenely exposed, "That we're done." She said dipping back down to her coat as she riffled around in the inside pockets for something. When she finally found whatever it was, she pulled it out and held it between two fingers twisting it around proudly, "There's a will there's a way," She recited with a smile. "But, if I'm right about you – and I'm always right – plan C won't be half as much fun as this woulda been." She finished waving her hand up and down, motioning toward him again. Dean took a moment to investigate the object she held in her hand, not happy when he thought he finally knew what it was. It looked like…fuck he couldn't even think it. It looked big though. Too fuckin' big. She couldn't be serious.

_Don't even think about it._ He snarled in his head and let out another growl of protest as she stepped closer and pulled out a bottle of lube._ No, no, no. Come _on_. Damn stupid fuckin cunt whore! _

"Your gonna wanna relax," She whispered close to his ear as she moved around to his back, sliding her polished nails over his skin, moving them to the hem of his boxers to yank them the rest of the way down. "I'd prep ya babe," She continued as he heard the lid off something pop open behind him, "But I just got my nails done." To add emphasis to her point she clawed down his back making him arch away from the touch, "Honestly think it'd be _more _unpleasant than if I just…" She paused and Dean heard the slippery squishing sound as the lube was rubbed over the other _thing _in her hand, "Let you have it. What do ya say?"

_God no. Please._ He didn't make any sound or move to respond, unwilling to give her the satisfaction. Something made a clicking sound behind him then and started a low hum of vibrations, he guessed she wouldn't be waiting for his go ahead. His eyes widened but he quickly composed himself and swore in that moment that he'd keep silent the rest of the night, no matter what she did to him. He'd be giving no one the satisfaction in this horror show.

"Okay, we'll go slow sweetheart. I know your knew to this, gotta keen eye for virgins." She sang with a mocking laugh next to his ear, "Just breathe," She cooed spreading him as the head of the vibrating _thing_ was pressed against his clenched hole. There was no pause to wait for him to relax, just instructions and frankly she didn't seem to care at all if he listened or not. Obviously she had a job to do and was wasting no time with games.

She pushed on ahead despite his resistance and he threw his head back grinding his teeth against the gag as the quivering thing pushed past the first unbelievably tight, resisting ring of muscle. Every instinct pushed him to cry out, to scream for help, to do _something,_ but he kept his silent promise and didn't make a sound.

And she kept pushing, slowing for nothing, and the vibrations racked through his whole body, seemingly cracking his very foundations to reduce him to a useless pile of dust, helpless to what was happening. The pain, God it was so unlike anything he'd felt before: just relentless, like fire searing his whole body.

"Mm," She hummed, "Told you I was never wrong." She said and Dean barely registered the words as he was focused solely on the task of getting that _thing out_ of him, "How's it feel?" She asked tauntingly as she forcefully shoved in the last bit, finally bottoming out.

_It feels like fucking torture you bitch._ Dean screamed at her in his head. And it really did, shooting mind splitting pain through his throbbing ass that seemingly ricocheted through his whole body. All the way to his aching muscles and joints, everything pounding painfully in unison with the heavy beat of his heart.

But then the vibrations hit something, something that wasn't painful. Something that forced his muscles to relax against the intrusion and invite in more, hold it securely inside. The woman hummed again in approval noticing Dean succumbing to the sensations. She backed away and moved to his front again once she was reassured that the vibrator would stay, groaning in appreciation at the sight she was greeted with.

A sheen of sweat had already spread along the hard, twitching muscles that covered the length of Dean's body. His head was still tilted back, his nostrils flared in the heavy breathing he tried to control and the veins in his neck and arms were slowly standing up as his blood pumped faster. So beautiful.

She pulled a condom out noticing his hardening length, standing on alert against his trembling abs.

_Fuck what the hell's happening?_ Dean thought blearily as he feebly tried to fight the arousal defying him. She slipped on the rubber and the touch threw off the balance of pain-pleasure for a moment; he lost his fight, crying out as his body tensed.

Then the precarious balance was back, rocking him to the very core and he didn't know what to feel. There was just too much happening at once. Everything hurt, his whole body was on fire - burning, but it was good too. The vibrations that were now settled against _something_ inside him were maddening, it felt so incredible, beginning to twist and morph the pain to only heighten his pleasure. It was overwhelming and exhausting and he couldn't fight it.

His body tensed against the restraints and quivered then relaxed, just to repeat the process again. He was helpless to it. His body was acting all on its own now and those vibrations weren't letting up or becoming less effective.

He was so hard it was quickly becoming painful and he needed to come; he _needed_ it. Which had never happened before and it scared him to no end. He was dependent on it – he'd never felt so powerless to his own body, yet here he was writhing against the chains, begging and moaning a grunting just as he promised he wouldn't.

And then there were voices in the distance, fighting through the mist of his own mind to be understood. He deepened his breath and tried harder to focus.

"…hold him off as long as you can…more we can collect the better…get this right the first time…not wasting these two..."

Dean absorbed from the much longer conversation. It wasn't much and it took him a while to register what they were talking about but eventually he did. If the rubber ring the hooker pulled from her jacket and approached him with wasn't enough to officially tip him off, he didn't think anything would.

Then, just as he felt that rising heat and tension reach a boiling point, signaling his body it was ready to go, she slipped it over his aching cock and left it tight at the base, staving off the release.

He let out a frustrated howl and glared daggers at her as she backed up and looked at him smugly. "We'll leave ya be for a while sugar." She smiled and bent to pick up her coat slipping it back on her delicate frame. "He'll be ready in a couple minutes. Is that everything?" She asked the doctor who was currently tending to Sam – God knows what he was doing to his still unconscious little brother. The doctor nodded to the girl and pulled out a roll of bills from his white overcoat and handed it over to her.

"Thanks for your services sweetheart." He smiled warmly and dismissed her.

"Course sir." And then she was gone, and Dean wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the wall for helping these maniacs.

He was such a trembling writhing mess though, he didn't have long to dwell on the hateful thoughts before a fresh and overpowering wave of pleasure teetering on pain washed through his aching body, shaking him to his _bones_.

Gosh, he couldn't last much longer. He'd get so close to finally reaching that release, despite the cut off circulation, and then that damn ring felt like it would tighten yanking him back from the edge, staved off once again. He'd never experienced such torment in his life and no one was making a move to get the fucking thing off or take the fucking vibrator out.

Dean was beyond pissed, moaning and huffing and crying out like a damn virgin on prom night so demeaned and ashamed and exposed. And there was nothing he could do.

Another five minutes and the doctor finally left Sam as the younger guy who'd left earlier re-entered the room. And Dean was going crazy, every breath he could manage came out a strangle roar and a string of profanities continuously streamed through his mind, cursing these people over and over.

So, despite the deep hatred festering in his gut, he was actually glad when the two finally came over just needing _someone_ to take this fucking thing off him before he passed out from overstimulation or some crazy shit like that.

"Off. Take…off." Dean tried to order around the gag, huffing each word with a heavy breath but all that came out were muffled snarls. He whimpered and moaned, arching and twisting trying anything to make this stop.

"Alright kid. Take it easy," The younger said slipping a pair of rubber gloves on. Dean ignored the words and kept panting, rumbling and twisting his body to get away from the sensations. It was just too much, his muscles were shot to hell twitching and strained as they were and yet they still kept tensing against the sensations crashing through him. He couldn't take any more. "Here we go." The guy finally continued and he took the ring between his thumb and forefinger obviously not keen to the task as he slipped it off.

Dean felt every move, hypersensitive to every touch and as soon as the ring slipped over the sensitive head of his cock he was coming, shooting his load harder than he ever had before. The cry that accompanied it was barely muffled through the gag as his limbs pulled taut against their restraints and he threw his head back, his whole body arching as it worked him through an overpowering release he'd never been so grateful for.

"Wow," The guy breathed as he took a step back and watched Dean completely crumble and fall limp against the chains once again. He didn't have time to continue his awe before the doctor was pushing him back and removing the condom from Dean's quickly softening cock.

"Oh you did good boy," The doctor said sparing a glance and excited smile at Dean as he carried away the seemingly precious fluids he'd provided. The younger spared a moment to pull out the vibrator, switch it off and join the doctor. Dean wanted to be sick, he thought he might be. Then the two retreated to the medical tray next to Sam and Dean simply didn't have the energy to try and stay awake any longer let alone focus on what they were doing.

The earlier conversation about keeping Sam asleep so he wouldn't be screaming later was not lost on him, but they'd sapped every ounce of energy and now he was entirely at sleep's mercy. His head swiveled, then fell limp against his chest and once again, he was out, completely oblivious to the workings of the doctor and writer who hovered excitedly around his little brother.


	2. Fake it till You Live

Warning: Hurt Sam. Medical procedure, not graphic.

Xx

Sam swore he'd never have another drink in his life if the pounding in his head would just let up a _little_. Fuckin' Christ where the hell was he, first of all, and how the hell had he gotten here? He hurt like hell.

As he slowly came to it wasn't only his head that made its throbbing pain known. His whole body was on fire, like it'd been run over by a steam roller, or stretched and pulled like pizza dough, tossed around and thrown in an oven.

His breath came out a slithery echoing hiss as he tried to stand, which he did because something felt off about this position, like maybe he was hanging from a meat hook, or two – one in each shoulder - and not standing on his own feet.

But, meat hooks? That couldn't be it, this was a different kind of pain. Like that over stretch pulsing ache that he'd started noticing everywhere else, yeah no meat hooks. Thank god.

With a soft grunt Sam managed to pry open his eyes and thank Christ it was dim lit in here, wherever the hell here was, because he didn't think his head could take much more. And then his groggy brain finally realized, this wasn't a hangover. He'd been drugged, knocked out…in the parking lot of that bar. Yeah, now it was coming back.

_Dean._ _Where was Dean?_ The loop began in his head, cutting off any other train of thought immediately as he remembered his brother had been in that lot with him. He couldn't decide whether he'd rather see him chained up here with him, or find the room empty and entertain the idea that'd he'd gotten away back at the bar.

But that didn't really matter as his eyes finally cleared up, came into focus and spotted a limp, dangling form across the room.

In the exact same position Sam seemed to be in. Which was the farthest from comfortable he thought he'd ever been, gagged and strung up and stretched out…and holy fuck why was there a knife in his stomach?

He glanced down, momentarily distracted from getting the hell out of these rusty cuffs and saving his brother, and saw the deep stitched gash running down the length of his lower belly.

What the hell? What kind of messed up shit did they get dragged into now. Sam shook his head lightly, careful of the throbbing, and refocused his thoughts. Dean.

He lifted his eyes to meet his brother again and damn did things just keep getting clearer. Like the focus on a camera, slowly readjusting again and again till the picture was practically popping out at you in 3D. Except, this was no picture, it was all too real.

And it was Dean, with his boxers, torn and hanging around his upper thighs, exposed to the whole damn world in all his unconscious glory.

Oh, Sam was gonna _kill_ whoever the fuck was responsible for _that_.

"Oh-oh no." Came a voice to his left from a shaded corner of the room, slowly the voice stepped out into some light and provided a face. A _fearful _one. Well, that was confusing.

Wasn't he the one chained up and kidnapped here? "Jean, your awake." The mystery man continued, "You - they shouldn't have worn off so quick. Oh he is not going to like this. Not at all." The man started pacing, really what the hell. Who wouldn't like what?

Sam would've asked, but the gag. So instead he did his best to growl around the tangy material biting into his cheeks and get the guys attention for an explanation. The man seemed to understand his unasked question because he stopped his footfall, stared at the mostly naked Sam before him and approached with a few careful steps.

"The doctor, Jean." He said as if that explained everything, "He doesn't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. But there's no more." Okay, honestly the worst explanation he could've offered. Sam was just further bewildered, and freaked the hell out. He didn't want to hurt either, "Charlie, where's Charlie. Need to find…" The man muttered walking back into that shaded corner again and descending what sounded like a flight of stairs, or a tunnel, something that left a faint echo.

This whole place was echo-y. It was giving him the creeps. Well that among a thousand other things.

A faint grunt traveled across the spans of the cold room and Sam's head shot up toward his brother.

"-ean?" Sam tried to call around the rag. Dean started to stir, rolling his head back and forth, just a couple inches before finally finding strength to lift it.

"-am!" Was the first sound out of Dean's tied up mouth, then more growling and fighting against the chains. Sam shook his head frantically, panicked at his brother's outburst and trying to assure him that he was alright. The fear Sam could make out in Dean's eyes though, so tangible and unhindered, had him rethinking his assurances. Dean was scared as hell. But the fear was obviously not for himself and it was making it look like he knew these people's plan for him.

"What the hell do you mean he's awake?" The doctor came rushing into the room then, interrupting Dean and Sam's moment of panic. He was as red-faced and furious as Dean had seen him yet.

Fuck. This was not good. Dean remembered all too well the conversation he'd overheard earlier about keeping Sam unconscious so he wouldn't be _screaming_ all night.

If there was one thing in this entire world that cut through all the bullshit and straight down to his soul, it was Sam's pain.

"God damnet!" The doc screamed, startling Dean back into the moment, "When I came to you and offered you the story of a life time…" The doctor started up again, getting all dramatic with his exaggerated hand motions and heavy wheezing breaths, "I didn't ask for an apprentice…. If I wanted an assistant…I would've hired a god damn nurse! You're here to report Jester. I don't need…" another heaving breath, "a second set of hands! Find. Charlie. Stop hovering. Go! Now!" He finished, shooing him with disgusted waves of his hands.

And, damn it all if the guy didn't look severely _hurt_ by his words. Pretty much crushed as he tripped over himself to leave. Craziest freakin' pair of actual _humans_ Dean had ever seen.

"Stupid imbecile." The doctor muttered before turning to Sam, completely oblivious or apathetic to the fact that Dean was now awake too.

"Jean." He purred, "I wish I could say I'm glad to see you up and aware…" The doctor shrugged and tilted his head, "but obviously I'm not. And unfortunately you won't be either. Time is of the essence…or I would wait for Charlie to sedate you." He shrugged a little uncaring shrug again and Dean writhed against the chains, bubbling fury slicing up his veins. "Just know that this next procedure will be quick. Ten, fifteen minutes…tops. I'll cause as little…discomfort…as possible."

And the man set to work.

Dean locked eyes with Sam before the doctor moved around to stand behind him, and all he saw there was defiance. He couldn't help the swell of pride that blew up his heart. He was damn proud.

There was no fear, no panic, nothing but the steal wall of bravery Sam put on in the face of what could potentially be some serious torture. Though neither of them knew at this point since these freaks were giving them no detailed explanations of what was happening or why they were there at all.

"Now usually I wouldn't do this in front of your partner…rude manners if nothing else." The doctor interrupted the silence again still working supplies on his medical tray behind Sam, so far he hadn't touched his brother, "But since _some_body failed to do his job correctly, I can't sedate you. And I won't knock you out…with force I mean. Would never damage the one body that may be able to survive this unnecessarily." He muttered mostly to himself, Sam's eyes grew a little wider, "But anyway conventionally I would take you to my operating room, this procedure's easiest done laying down. As it is though, I make do with what I have." He pulled Sam's shorts down unabashed at his actions and Dean immediately turned away allowing Sam some privacy.

But then he whimpered. And Dean couldn't take that sound.

He whipped back around and stared into Sam's face, trying his damndest to give off some kind of reassuring vibe but he was pretty sure he was emanating only fear.

_Damn these mother fucking psychopaths to the deepest hottest most torturous and feared and fiery depths of fucking hell…_The stream of profanities hurling these people to damnation didn't let up even for a second as the next _forty _minutes passed. Dean was forced to watch his brother in totally and utter agony with no explanation of what was happening or way to stop it.

And Sam did not disappoint the doctor's prediction; his screams were ragged and deep and desperate and, also, didn't let up for more than a few minutes as time passed. The doctor sitting on a stool behind him, calm as fucking ever, doing _something_ Dean couldn't begin to fathom or try and imagine.

He couldn't see it, he didn't want to ever fucking know.

But he did want it to stop. It was no use trying to stifle the rough and tortured sobs wracking his whole frame. Just as it was no use trying not to thrash against his restraints or scream through his gag. Sam was in pain, so Dean followed in suit.

Finally, after what Dean had to assume had been an hour of complete chaotic screaming torture, the doctor backed up. Dean caught the sight of some long, flexible tool in his hand before he turned away and set it on the tray, covered in blood.

"That went very well Jean. You did very well." He repeated stupidly and Dean wanted to kick his head in as he pat Sam on the shoulder. He was going to lose it, "The artificial egg is planted, my staff has been working on yours for weeks." He announced proudly, "No other female genes will interrupt yours…and his…" the doctor made a vague gesture toward Dean who was still jerking violently against his chains, "mixing. This one will be all yours." He explained and Dean had no fucking clue what the hell he could possibly be talking about, "This will work out."

Sam was too disoriented to really understand whatever the doctor was rambling about just yet as he was still fighting against the black spots in his vision, but something about an egg and jeans filtered through his consciousness. He thought it was an odd pair to be talking about at a time like this, but that was the last thought that registered before he lost the fight and was out once more.

Dean watched as his brother fell unconscious and the doctor walked away, taking off a pair of revoltingly bloody gloves as he made his way toward the exit. Dean had fallen quiet a few minutes ago, so when he shouted again it got the man's attention. He turned around, making no effort to hide his pleasure with himself, "Yes Jason?"

Dean growled at the name but gave a pointed look and jerk of his head toward Sam thinking he'd get the message pretty clearly.

"Jean is fine. He's passed out from the pain," he explained as if that was totally fine, "but that's nothing to be wary off. He needs rest now anyway. His body will wake up once it can handle itself again…" He took a labored breath, Dean was really getting tired off them, "Get used to these occurrences. His body will be undergoing many changes over the next few months," He grinned at some private understanding of those words before lifting his eyes to meet Dean's again, "But don't worry." He shook his head, "I'll be here with a watchful eye for all nine months of them, because I just know he'll survive." He grinned, "I can feel it."

Then he disappeared and Dean was left in silence, staring at his brother – at the little dribble of blood running down Sam's thigh. But he quickly averted his eyes from _that _because the sight was just too fucking much.

"Ugh," He groaned, heaving deep breaths and feeling the straining pull against his muscles as he sagged. He vaguely wondered how his limbs would fair once they were finally released from their torture trap and if he'd be able to walk steadily enough to get them out of their when they escaped. Because they would escape. Being forced to witness the past hour, seeing the blood dribble between Sam's legs - it was plenty enough to resolve that outcome.

Dean panted heavily into the air and, captive to the quiet, began sorting through the last words the doctor had spoken before leaving. Because they were too cryptic and confusing to ignore.

_Nine months. Nine months. Why nine months? And my genes and Sam's genes? What was that about? What did he want with my damn jizz too? And what in God's name did he do to Sam for that whole hour?_ Nothing of it made sense. Because if he was as lunatic crazy as these people were, he'd have said some of this shit sounded like…fertility experiments. Like pregnancy stuff. Nine months and genes and artificial eggs? What else could he make of that?

The idea didn't really freak him out for more than a second though because it was dispelled as quickly as it came. There was no way in hell it was possible - it was fact. Scientific fact. And who the hell was he to question fact?

Dean reassured himself for hours after that, fighting every thought in his head that kept trying to puzzle this together and ignoring every idea that turned around his rebuttals to try and make this reproduction thing make sense.

His disturbing thoughts were disrupted though when Sam started to stir about three hours later. The doctor had come to check on him once throughout the span of time and Dean had protested his every move with ferocity, but his satisfied expression when he left gave Dean a little reassurance that Sam would be alright.

Or at least wake up. And he did.

"-am?" Dean tried to say. Sam moaned, deep and guttural and it physically hurt Dean to hear it. He ducked his head trying to get Sam to meet his eye and once he did, it wasn't so bad anymore. Sam was alive and looking at him, blinking at him and growling to him.

Which yeah, sounded a little odd but it was noise, frustrated noise sure, but sound none the less and all proof that Sam's heart was still alive and beating under his chest.

Dean sent him a determined look he knew said 'we're getting the hell out of here,' before he scanned the room for ideas on how to escape.

Twenty four hours later, an opportunity and idea were presented to him.

He started moaning around his gag while the doctor, and now the writer again, we're hovering around Sam holding some machine to his stomach. Neither noticed, or if they did they didn't turn. He groaned a little louder and started feebly pulling on his chains. Still neither turned around. He steadily grew louder and louder, hoping his feebly trained acting skills wouldn't fail him now before he sucked in as deep a breath as he could.

"AHHHHH!" He screamed with all his worth, breaking off into muffled choking sobs as he yanked as hard as he could against his chains, doing everything possible to sound like he was in real pain. It wasn't too difficult to pull off with as much experience he'd had actually being in true pain. And he definitely had the right motivation to not screw this up now. He had to get Sam out.

And, hell if that scream didn't get their attention nothing would. It sounded real to _Dean_'s ears and he almost managed to convince himself he was honestly fighting for his life with it. He felt a rush of adrenaline and fear creep up on him as the act caught up to his body and his imaginary pain started feeling real.

Both the doctor and writer turned around when the agonized shriek filled and almost literally shook the room. They spared one quick glance at each other before advancing toward him.

"That doesn't sound like simple rebellion," The writer said nervously glancing at the doctor. Dean kept up his charade giving absolutely everything he had to his act and the next couple shrill cries didn't fail him. He attempted to double over as much as he could and feigned choking on his gag.

He looked up to the doctor, who was still trying to figure out if this was some sort of game, with truly panicked eyes. If he wasn't sold before, the sheer desperation and honest fear Dean radiated did the trick.

"Get the gag off," he barked to the writer who quickly made his way around to Dean's back and began yanking on the tie.

"Oh, god. Oh, god make it stop. Fucking shit, doc please do something." He cried as the fabric fell from his mouth before his whole body started shaking. He yelled out again, tossing his head back for dramatic effect. They were totally sold.

"Jason stay with me," The doctor said tilting his head back down, "Tell me where it hurts." He demanded giving off the air of 'professional at work' now.

"My stomach. Down…to the right, god." He heaved in a labored gulp of air. "It's like someone's twistin' a knife," he groaned loud, coming out closer to a wail again before he full out screamed: "Do something!" He gasped a couple more panicked breaths and moans, then slowly fell limp.

They stared frozen for about half a second, listening to the panicked cries coming from Sam behind them before moving into action.

"Get him down." The doctor ordered and the other man pulled out an old set of rusty keys before shoving the right ones in the right locks and getting Dean's arm's out, holding up his torso as it collapsed. "I think it's his appendix," The doctor said as he proceeded with his ankles and quickly got them undone, "Get him to the operating table, and have my staff on standby. We _need_ this one alive." He almost pleaded before they both began setting off toward the darkened corner.

Dean took his opportunity without hesitation, mentally blocking out the screaming pain in his limbs, and planned out his next attack moves before executing them. He brought his right knee forward into the completely exposed groin of the doctor and put him on the floor out of sheer surprise alone in about a second.

He spun in the same moment, using the momentum to connect his cocked fist with the writer's entirely stunned face. A few more fueled blows and then he was unconscious. Dean turned once again to the bug-eyed doctor clutching his crotch and kicked him in the back of the head twice before he was out too.

It was pathetically easy, Dean was just angry he hadn't thought of it earlier. He snatched the keys from the writer and set out toward Sam who looked just as shocked as they had. Within a minute he was free and un-gagged, slumping forward onto his brother out of exhaustion and pain, but more than anything relief.

"Can you walk?" Dean asked quietly talking into the crook of Sam's neck. He gave a weak and uncertain nod before Dean grabbed his arm and gently draped it over his shoulder's, wrapping an arm around his waist and starting out.

"Hang on." Dean whispered and left Sam leaning up against the wall supporting himself before he reached the two still forms on the floor. He gave each of them a merciless stomp to the head again, making sure they'd stay out for the next hour at least while releasing some of his escalating rage for these maniacs still festering in his chest.

"People are always so stupid on TV." Dean muttered taking his position next to Sam again as they started out, "Always making their great escape. Knock out the bad guy…" They ran into a flight of stairs and slowly began to climb, "think their all bad ass and then the guy wakes up as they're friggin' steppin' out the front door." Dean gave a smirk trying to keep the mood light as they kept climbing, finally reaching what looked to be ground level. Sam, to Dean's surprise chuckled at his rant and nodded in agreement.

"They're idiots. Makes me mad every time." He confessed breathlessly, a smile quivering at his lips before they fell silent for a few minutes. Content to simply revel in their honest great escape, "Damn that was a convincing performance back their man." Sam broke the silence as they stepped through what they could only assume was the doc's house, "I'm still shaking. Thought you were dying. For real." He shook his head trying to smile again. But Dean saw the pain he was trying to mask, and immediately felt bad.

"Not a chance in hell Sammy. Had to save my damsel in distress of a kid brother first. You know that." He gave a light nudge to Sam's side as they stepped out the front door. Sam nodded, tried once again for a crooked grin and then focused on their surroundings.

A dense, shaded forest, he noticed as his eyes scanned the front of the house. How original.

Probably hundreds of miles from any normal civilization.

"Okay, well before we can get out of here we need to find his car. And the road, if there is one. And preferably some clothes." Dean said thinking out loud.

Sam was slowly getting a little of his strength back, everything still hurt like a bitch. Especially his ass and something shifting weird in his stomach, but he thought he could walk on his own now at least.

He started removing his arm from over Dean's shoulders.

"Why don't you go see if he has a car around here and I'll get clothes. Look for some food. I need to find out where we are too." Sam muttered scanning the house from the entry way.

"Akron. Michigan. That's the city we were jumped in right, where the job was, and our motel?" Dean thought trying foggily to remember where they'd been hunting that werewolf. He thought that sounded right. Sam nodded his confirmation.

"Yeah, Akron. We might still be there. Lemme go check. Go get the car." Sam gave him a weak push out the door but left it open, knowing Dean was uneasy leaving him alone right now.

"You scream, yell your freakin' head off if one of them comes at you. You're weak right now so don't try and pull some macho shit while I'm not here. And hurry." Sam rolled his eyes, choosing not to retort to that insanely condescending demand and left before Dean could say anything more, setting out on his mission for supplies.

After a thorough ten minute search, Sam had collected most of the food he could find in the fridge, five water bottles, two pairs of jeans and t-shirts from the doc's bedroom – which he noticed was next door to the operating room he remembered was mentioned before, Sam shuddered – and confirmed they were in fact still in Akron through an address he found on a piece of mail in the kitchen.

For how buckets of crazy this guy seemed to be, most of his house was so freakin' normal it was putting Sam on edge.

Dean pulled a shabby, white Neon around front then, grinning stupidly at his success and Sam made his way down the steps with his supplies, elated to leave their nightmare as he made his way to the passenger seat. He threw a pair of the clothes to Dean and they both hurriedly put them on before getting back in and pulling the car around to the back where Dean said he'd spotted the road out.

"Thank fuckin' Christ were outta there." He said with a completely ecstatic, self-satisfied smirk as they headed down the jostling road, "Dude, what'd you grab?" He asked looking at the plastic bags filled with what he thought was food and water bottles at Sam's feet. Sam pulled up a sack between them and opened it so Dean could peer in. He gave a moan of appreciation before he ripped open a string cheese and practically inhaled it.

"Dean you haven't eaten in a couple days I'm pretty sure. If you eat too fast, or the wrong shit-" He gestured to the cheese, "it's not gonna stay down."

"Dude I'm fuckin' starved, shut up." He said with no real heat to his words. He did a subtle double take noticing Sam hadn't touched anything and made no move to. "Sam, eat. Not like they fed you either." Dean said a little confused but trying not to voice his concern yet.

Sam shrugged, "No, but I'm not really hungry." He said quietly looking out the window at the passing trees.

"Not hungry-?" Dean stopped his incredulous tone and took a breath, "How's the cut?" He asked trying to keep his eyes on the road and not his little brother. They still weren't out of the woods yet, figuratively or literally, so he couldn't pull over to do a full once-over.

Sam hesitated but lifted his shirt the few inches needed to inspect it. Why hadn't they bandaged it? Dean didn't understand – this and a lot of other shit.

"They've been cleaning it, at least they did once when you were out. I don't think it's infected yet, but we should probably get some antiseptics at the first drug store we find."

_No shit._

"Yeah," Dean answered, his next question on the tip of his tongue as he sat in tense silent for a few minutes debating whether he should ask. Now or ever.

"Sam," He started finally making up his mind, "What- uh, what happened yesterday? With that…that 'procedure,'" Dean spit the word and he couldn't stop wincing or grimacing through his sentence - he probably looked like he had turrets, "What did he do?" He finished quietly, half knowing the answer, half hoping Sam had more of an answer, but mainly praying to high heavens none of it was true.

"I don't know Dean." He answered shortly keeping his gaze out the window. And Dean knew right away that was all the answer he'd be getting for a while.

He sighed, "Alright Sam, it's okay. Why don't you try getting' some shut eye and I'll wake you up when we hit civilization." He said trying once again to keep his tone light.

Sam nodded, following the suggestion easily and was soon in a restless slumber propped up against the foggy window.

An hour later, Dean saw a brighter light peering in through the cracks between the trees and he knew they were close. Sam hadn't moved though and he was antsy, already hating this forest with a passion, desperate for the normal scene they were usually surrounded by – like houses and people and a motel room. The shady path this forest surrounded was making him claustrophobic, not at all helping with his general unease, so when the dirt road finally pulled off onto pure, clean, black pavement, Dean could've cried tears of joy.


	3. Heavy Feet and Leaden Eyes

A/U: Alright guys, this is basically all dialogue, which personally I like but if it's slow for you guys I apologize. We'll be gettin' to bigger better more exciting things very soon. Excuse any mistakes I have no beta for this story and I'm tired, so editing will be sparse.

Hope you all enjoy anyway.

And a huge shout out to Twinchester Angel for her wonderful review because I loved it even if I didn't deserve it. So sweet, thanks again

Warnings: language, angst

Xx

The very first thing Dean did once they reached the very first gas station they saw was call Bobby. Obviously.

"'lo?" the older man answered gruffly after two painfully long rings.

"Bobby!" Dean nearly shouted in relief, "Where you at right now?"

"Dean? Boy that you? What do ya mean where am I? Home, why?"

"It's Sam Bobby. He's sick. We were on a case in Akron. We were jumped, kidnapped in this lunatic doctor's basement. We got out, but they did somethin' to Sam. He's burnin' up, I don't know-"

"Alright, alright son calm down. You get outta Akron fast as you can. Head my way, we'll meet in Iowa City. Think that's about halfway…" He paused, "That is if we can handle this ourselves, he don't need a hospital does he?"

"I don't know, I don't think so. He's just got the chills and a fever now, he might need antibiotics if his cut gets infected but it's not there yet. I'd be getting supplies now but I need to get back to the car and motel first, oh God if they touched my car…" He groaned, "We don't have anything right now but the guy's car. I wanted to call you before I did anything. Wanted to make sure we could meet up soon." He explained self-consciously, "I feel a little outta my element here." He chuckled shakily, but there was no real humor behind the sound.

"Shit how do you boys attract so much damn trouble?" He mumbled and Dean shrugged even though Bobby couldn't see, "Okay I hear ya boy. But you just stay calm, get to your motel and high tail it out of there. I don't want you runnin' in with your friends again. Not until Sam's alright. We can deal with them later."

Dean sighed in relief, Bobby always knew exactly what to say to calm him down, "I can do that. I'll be there as quick as I can. But please hurry, Bobby."

The lines clicked dead and Dean practically ran back to the car, though it had been in sight the whole time.

"Hey Sammy, feelin any better?" He asked once they were pulling out of the lot and back onto the highway. He still couldn't believe how quickly Sam had come down with the fever; one second he'd been sleeping, the next he was shaking, shivering and moaning these little whimpering sounds. It was killing him.

Sam nodded, but Dean knew too easily it was an act to put him at ease, stupid self sacrificing little brothers. That was _his _job.

"Yeah, sure." Dean shook his head and pressed down on the pedal harder. Within a few minutes they were back at the bar they'd left the car at. Of course, it was nowhere to be found.

"Ugh, God _damn_." Dean complained, completely ready to actually stomp his foot or some shit equally ridiculous to demonstrate his frustration. If anything happened to his baby…fuck he was gonna kill them himself.

"It ain't here Sammy." Dean grumbled slumping back into the car and pulling out, ready to make one last stop back at their motel to pack up.

"Might notta been them…" Sam nearly whispered still hunched over against the window, "Impound? Car's been here…couple days. Bar mighta had it towed." He slurred sleepily in his delirium. Dean's brow shot up, never did the kid cease to amaze him. Though that suggestion shouldn't have – because Dean should've thought of it himself. That would've been the next obvious place to look. They'd head there after the motel.

"Yeah Sammy. You're probably right. Motel and then we'll go." He reached over and gripped his shoulder gently in silent appreciation and comfort before racing back around town to their motel.

It took all of ten minutes to pack up their things, which fortunately, the owner hadn't thrown out when they evicted them three nights ago. He gathered it up, found his emergency credit card in the bottom lining of his duffle and paid quickly before they were off again.

He already felt ten times lighter knowing he at least had one source of income, limited as it may be, and with it, they were on the road once again, following the tenant's directions to the impound.

Dean didn't bother with formalities as they pulled around the back of the building, he snuck his way to the back lot where the cars were stashed. The place was run down, low-tech and obviously not very often in use, so the task was pretty easy. Soon he was crouching down through the couple lanes of cars, keeping a watchful eye on the only man who seemed to working that night as he searched.

"Oh, god. Oh, my sweet baby." Dean breathed as he laid eyes on her. The last one in the last row – talk about keeping a guy on his toes. "I'll never leave you again, promise." He whispered as he pulled on the door handle. It was unlocked.

This was just too easy. Within a few minutes the car was hot-wired, because he just didn't have time to try and scout out his keys, and he was driving through the rusted chain link fence that kept the cars in. Hell if it was keeping his girl in though. He spun his tires on the slippery gravel before gaining purchase on pavement and racing toward the Neon Sam was still waiting in, ready to go.

"Sam!" He yelled through the open passenger window as he screeched to a stop beside the ugly car. Sam was out in a second, half jumping half tumbling into the familiar passenger seat of the Impala, not even getting the door shut before they were gone. They drove off to the fading sounds of an outraged man standing beside his broken fence.

Dean almost felt bad, but there were more important things to worry about now that they had their shit and their car ready to go. They were off to Iowa City.

About three hours into the drive, they were really almost there with the time Dean was making, Sam's hand shot out and slapped over his brother's chest.

"Pull over." He muttered, but the urgency in his words was all too clear. And Dean knew that tone…

Sam thrust open the door before lurching half way out, coughing and heaving up his stomach's contents.

"Ah shit, Sam c'mere." He said quietly after rubbing Sam's back through his upheaval.

"Don' feel good Dean…" Sam said through one whooshing breath as he collapsed into Dean's arms.

"I know Sammy." He sighed, gripping his brother's shoulder, "Bad enough for a hospital?" Dean asked timidly, barely getting the words out around his fear constricted throat. Sam immediately shook his head at the suggestion though and backed up to look Dean in the eye.

"No. No, don't." He paused and sighed as he shut his door and leaned back into it, "Bobby 'll...know what to do." He garbled breathlessly. And then Sam was drifting to a light sleep and all Dean could do was take his brother's word for it before speeding back onto the highway. But he did not feel good about this.

Another hour and they were in Iowa City, pulling off into the first motel they found to borrow a phone.

"Bobby we're here. At Motel 4, on Keene."

"Alright I'm about twenty minutes out. See you there kid." He said before the dial tone sounded. Dean hung up just as quickly before he rushed to pay for a room.

"Alright Sam, up and at 'em. We're here." Dean practically sang, trying to wake him as gently as possible. There was no way his limbs could handle the strain of trying to carry him in yet, so they'd have to make do. "C'mon Sam." He shook him timidly and Sam stirred, bringing a hand up to push at Dean's face.

"Oh, come on man," He muttered when a finger went up his nose and into his mouth; he jerked away before grabbing Sam's wrist and pulling the arm over his shoulders. The slight tug woke him up a little further and Dean managed to half drag Sam into the room before practically dropping him onto a bed.

"Okay easy kid, I got ya." He muttered as he pushed some hair out of Sam's squinted eyes.

"It's cold Dean. Too cold." Sam mumbled and shook his head in disapproval. Sam always took on that four year old kid persona when he was in the throes of high fever; Dean always wished he could appreciate how it could take him back years to simpler times, but it was Sam in pain. So that was all he saw.

"Lift up." Dean instructed gripping the back of his shoulders and pulling him up slowly, Sam just grunted. "Help me out here a little man, need to get the shirt off." He said into Sam's shoulder still holding him up.

Sam gave an unintelligible moan of protest again and Dean gave up.

_Jesus he's getting worse. Thank god Bobby's comin'. _He thought as he laid Sam back down and went to search his duffle for the spare key he thought he remembered leaving in a pair of jeans.

"Ah-ha." He muttered in quiet triumph as he stepped out, leaving the door open to bring in the weapons from the trunk. But just then a familiar growling engine sounded and Bobby's truck pulled up to a stop next to Dean's.

"Thank Christ Bobby, don't remember ever bein' this happy to see you." He joked as they shared a brief but strong hug and helped each other bring their things in.

"I'm sure," Bobby grumbled with a shake of his head, "How's he doin'?" He asked warily as they stepped inside. Dean kicked the door closed and dug a knife out of the bag full of weapons and rock salt.

"Not great." He replied before making his way back to the bed and sitting by Sam's side, noticing he was out cold.

Bobby was pulling out his med kit when Dean asked: "You don't happen to have a thermometer Bobby?" without taking his eyes from Sam.

"Who the hell you think your talkin' to? 'Course I do." He answered gruffly snatching one from his truly impressive case of medical supplies and handing it over.

Dean got Sam conscious and coherent enough to make sure he wouldn't flip if he woke to Dean cutting his shirt off, also taking the opportunity to get his mouth open. Dean got the thermometer in place, made sure Sam wouldn't let it slip and started slicing away the ugly polo. He threw the shirt aside with more force than necessary and heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath as he took in the long surgical cut down his lower belly.

"I know." Dean muttered unable to meet Bobby's probably horrified glare.

"What in God's name happened?" He grumbled pulling up a chair between the two beds and swiping the lamp and clock off the night stand to set down his med kit.

"Wish I knew." Dean started before taking out the thermometer and moving aside for Bobby to get a closer look at the cut, " 102.7." Dean shook his head and began from the beginning:

"We were at a bar, celebratin' the hunt I guess, had one too many and were jumped in the lot lookin' for the car." Bobby gave a grunt of displeasure, but didn't take his eyes off the cut he was currently cleaning, "Next thing I know I come to in this cave-like room, stripped to my boxers and hanging by my wrists from the ceiling." He glanced down at them now, noticing for the first time the raw bloody slices struggling against the chains had given him, "I looked up and saw Sam in the same position, but he had that," Dean gestured to the wound.

"Well whatever maniac did it knew how to stitch. It looks professional." He said through the undertones of anger in his voice, "I can't understand what in the hell it could be for though. Unless they were organ thieves, but you don't got any cuts." He observed out loud as he finished bandaging it and sat back. Sam was still out of it and quickly drifted back to sleep once Bobby was finished, rolling on his side to face away from them.

"How long were you two there?" He asked turning back to Dean who was watching Sam intently.

"Three, four days?" He guessed, "What's today?" In all the commotion he hadn't even bothered to check.

"It's Friday, son." Bobby answered, obviously concerned. Dean quickly did the math, they'd been at the bar Monday night.

"Three nights, four days then. Tonight would've been the fourth slumber party…" He trailed off bitterly, lost in thought and debating what all he should tell Bobby about their little adventure. He hated to admit, but some of it was just downright embarrassing, a lot of it he didn't understand, and _all_ of it he didn't feel like talking about.

After a minute though he knew he had to at least try, for Sam's sake.

"Bobby the guy was a doctor. Like a real doctor I think, cause there was this other one: a reporter or journalist or something and he only ever called the guy 'doctor'. And the two of them...one time they were talking about getting their reward, getting the prize they deserve or some shit. I figured the guy was a journalist cause he said he wanted a Pulitzer-"

"You know what that is?" Bobby interrupted incredulously.

"Yeah, I think. I mean it's an award for writer's or like, journalists right?" Dean asked wondering if he'd just made an idiot of himself.

"Well yeah, most of the time, I just didn't know…" Bobby shook his head, surprised.

"I knew?" Dean finished, brow shooting up; Bobby shrugged.

Dean huffed a sigh, "Kay well, anyway so these two were working together. Like experimenting on humans. And a lot of their…subjects weren't making it through whatever they were doing, once the doc asked if the other guy had 'disposed of the bodies,'" Dean shook his head, brow furrowed in disgust as he took a deep breath to steady himself, "They were adamant about Sam makin' it though," He said deeply reassuring himself as much as Bobby. "Obviously he was the main test subject for this whole thing." Motioning to the crumpled form on the bed.

Bobby let out a breath he'd been holding since Dean had admitted people were being experimented on and subjects were dying.

"Well shit. What the hell have you two dragged yourselves into now?" He whispered mostly to himself. Dean didn't even have it in him to retort against that statement, because they definitely hadn't dragged _themselves _into anything, so he just shrugged.

"Then what'd they want _you_ there for if all they were experimentin' on was Sam?" Bobby asked once the question occurred to him. Dean blushed on cue and ducked his head to hide from Bobby's gaze, like a child about to admit they'd just accidentally wet the bed or something.

"Uh…well…" There was no way he was going to be able to get this out.

"Dean." Bobby stressed, "What'd they do son?" He asked; it sounded a lot like a threat though as his temper rose quickly.

"They um, they…well, there was this girl…" Wrong way to start.

"Oh your kiddin' Dean. What the hell'd you do?" He slapped his knee leaning forward, disappointment all over his words.

"I didn't do anything Bobby!" He yelled and Sam stirred groaning quietly. Dean quickly calmed down and let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders to start again, "She was a…hooker or stripper or somethin'…they'd hired her to, um…well they wanted my…uh…" His voice was cracking and wavering all over the place, as if this wasn't humiliating enough, "Ah fuck Bobby they wanted my seed alright?" He exclaimed in his gravelly low voice, ducking again to rub the back of his neck as heat rose coloring his neck and cheeks. Dean couldn't remember ever being more uncomfortable in his life.

"Oh." Bobby answered quietly as his breath left him in a near silent rush.

Dean turned back to face him, not surprised when he saw the shock there, "I fought it Bobby I swear I did," He started, suddenly feeling the need to defend himself, "Nothing she was doing was working, I promise. Ya know, I was scared, and Sam was _right _there…unconscious but still." Bobby grimaced with Dean, "And it just, nothing worked. But then, she did something. She had something and she…well. Fuck I don't know she used it on me and then I couldn't help it. There was nothing I could do I swear, there was no way to stop-"

"Hey, hey calm down." Bobby cut off his panicked rambling, seeing he was getting worked up in his guilt, "It's okay Dean, look at me." He put a firm hand on his neck and turned his head to face him, "Not your fault alright. It sounds like," Bobby paused and backed up putting his elbows on his knees, raking a hand down his face, "Well if I'm understandin' your vague descriptions right it sounds like she…milked you." He admitted sympathetically.

Dean's brow crumpled and his eyes turned to slits, "_What_?"

"It's what it's called." He shrugged, "There's nothin' you coulda done kid, don't beat yourself up." He patted him on the shoulder once and turned back to Sam. Dean shuddered and did the same, more than ready to drop this.

"Well did they say what they wanted with it?" Bobby had to ask a few tense seconds later.

"Not really." Dean answered wishing he could just say no and leave it at that. But he knew now would be the time to delve into the _last_ conversation he'd had with the doctor, one he begrudgingly knew he had to bring up. The one most disturbing. And the one couldn't begin to understand.

"Go on." Bobby encouraged.

"Um, well…he said some pretty crazy shit Bobby. I didn't know what to make of it. And there was only one way I could really think to understand it, but it's just not possible. So I let it go, ya know?"

"Well before you let it go at least tell me what he said. Anything could help at this point."

"Okay well I should start by explaining what he did…just before he told me this stuff." He started; his voice low and tense as a wave of pain and nausea crashed over him like tidal waves on a rocky shore. Just massive and explosive and raw as he recalled the horrific hour of undeterred screams, one after another falling from his _seventeen_ year old brother. The one who didn't deserve any of this shit.

"Dean you alright?" Bobby asked when he saw the mood shift, twist his features. He was hurting, and that worried Bobby to no end.

Dean nodded shakily with a fist over his taut lips, a muscle in his jaw working overtime as he fought against whatever emotions were working to get out, "Yeah Bobby, it's just uh…" He cleared his throat and schooled his features before facing him, "You should've seen him." His raised brow crinkled, "Screamin' his damn lungs out." He whispered as he looked back down to the floor again.

"What, _Sam_?" Bobby asked, with a barely noticeable tremble. Dean nodded again and continued.

"The doc, he uh, was doin' something." He shrugged disbelievingly, "He was sittin' behind him…had his uh, pants…pulled down… _Fuck_." He breathed into his fist and squeezed his eyes shut tight, but kept going, "It took a long time, whatever the hell he was doin' to him. And his…he was screamin' bloody murder the whole time." Water pooled in his eyes, "Didn't let up for more than a minute or two." He sniffed and blinked, getting the tears to retreat as he let out a strangled sigh.

Bobby looked as distraught as Dean felt once he turned back to him with his elbows on his knees and back hunched in defeat. Bobby was leaned back in his rickety chair again, eyes wide, pooling, slack jawed. Shocked, disgusted, in denial most likely.

"God damn." He whispered once he could and put both hands on his knees as if to keep himself steady. "You don't…got any idea why…what the bastard was doin'?" He asked, infuriated. Dean tilted his head unable to really shake it no.

"Well that's where it gets weird. What he was tellin' me after, Sam had passed out I think." Dean took another second to calm his thundering heart enough to speak again, "He said he was…planting an 'artificial egg.' He muttered something about 'his genes, my genes' and that Sam's body would go through a lot of…changes but that he'd…" Dean let out a frustrated huff of breath, knowing his next words would make it impossibly clear exactly what the theory he'd come up with was.

"He'd what Dean?" Bobby prompted when he didn't answer fast enough.

"He'd be there for all nine months of it." Dean answered looking straight at the ground through his entangled hands. He heard all the air escape his friend's lungs for the second time within hour.

It only confirmed Bobby had drawn the same conclusion Dean had, and that meant he couldn't forcefully deny it any more. Because it was true, all the facts pointed to one insane, impossible explanation.

"Nine months huh?" Bobby confirmed quietly, "And you didn't see any witch craft stuff around, he wasn't chantin' any mumbo jumbo, no spells or curses?"

"Not that I saw." Dean lifted his shoulders, "Looked like a doctor Bobby. Maybe retired outta his mind insane, but _human_ and not workin' with anything supernatural." Dean shook his head.

"Well, I think you know what everything you just told me kind of…automatically makes ya think, no matter how crazy." Bobby stated obviously not wanting to say the exact words aloud.

"Yeah." He whispered, "But it's not true. 'Cause it's not possible." Dean shrugged as if saying the words meant the option was ruled out.

"As far as we know. But we need someone to confirm it." Bobby admitted, "Who knows what this guys capable of." He murmured and when Dean looked over for reassurance, he got everything but. The obvious fear there freaked Dean the hell out. Bobby was their rock. The go to guy when him and Sam stepped in shit; knowing something had rattled him enough to lose his steadfast calm scared Dean. It meant he thought this could really be possible, could really be happening. They could really be sitting here, wondering whether Sam, his innocent little by-stander of a brother, was… he couldn't even think it.

Dean snapped running his hands roughly through his hair before standing abruptly and pacing the room, "Well do you know anyone who could…help us?" He snarled, more anger in his tone then he meant for.

"Like a doctor?"

Dean shrugged, "Preferably a sane one." He offered sarcastically.

"Well can't promise anything there," Bobby said ignoring his tone, "but I know a guy. Trustworthy, knows what he's doin', and harmless."

"He's not like your physician or some shit, he knows about our life right?"

"Yeah, a'course I'm not an idiot." Bobby grumbled.

Tensions we're high, really high, like static in the room. Dean was buzzing around like a restless, caged up tiger and Bobby was stiff in his chair, strung-out.

"Call him." Dean barked and slowly came to a standstill as Bobby got up and went outside to make the call, feeling they could both use a few minutes alone to process the situation. The possibilities it presented.

A tiny sound yanked his head back in Sam's direction and away from the window, but a few quiet seconds passed and he wondered if it'd been his imagination. He was quietly walking over, suddenly wary of waking him, when he saw Sam's shoulders shake once in what he could only guess to be a stifled sob.

"Oh, Sam." He whispered and quickly sat next to him gently pulling on his left shoulder to roll him half way on his back. There were indeed small thin wet tracks sliding off his cheeks sideways. Dam it hurt to see them.

"We wake you up?" He asked like a fool, knowing full well what the answer was. Sam just nodded and turned his face away a little.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean whispered mostly because he didn't know what else he could say. Sam nodded again and Dean just bowed his head, wondering what he could possibly do to fix this.

"How do you feel?" He asked raising his head a moment later. Sam shrugged still avoiding verbal responses.

"Fever gone down at all?" Dean asked brushing a hand over his forehead, but Sam jerked away from the touch and he retreated quickly. "I'm not gonna hurt you Sam." He explained, confused.

"I know." He whispered still looking away from Dean.

"Sam were gonna work this out alright, I promise. You're gonna be okay." He reassured just as Bobby walked back in.

"Oh," He breathed shutting the door, "Heya Sam. Good to see you awake," He said trying for a smile as he approached the bed and put the phone back in his pocket. Sam at least made the effort to return it as he glanced up at Bobby and Dean couldn't have been happier at the gesture.

"Um, Dean can I talk to you for a sec?" Bobby asked throwing Sam a quick apprehensive glance.

"It's okay Bobby, I heard you guys talking." Sam chimed in and slowly pulled himself until he was sitting up, "Did you get a hold of the doctor?" Bobby was quiet, trying to mask over his features before he responded…he knew they should have been quieter.

_Very smooth way to break the news, stupid idiot._ Bobby reprimanded himself and then quickly shook his head to clear it, "Yeah. But his daughters just a few hours out and he's in the middle of taking care of someone. Soon as he's done he said he'd come but for now he suggested his girl substitute. Said he taught her everything he knows, that'd she'd be able to handle…whatever just fine."

"You told them?" Sam asked half confused half hurt and a little shocked.

"No, no of course not. No details, had to talk to you first." Bobby nudged him on the shoulder, "Just said we needed a little help and he was the only one I knew who qualified."

Sam nodded relieved then took a second to think, "I don't want a girl comin' here. I can wait for the guy." Bobby and Dean shared a look before returning back to Sam.

"Sam…" Dean hesitated not wanted to piss him off any further, "That's irrational man, something could be seriously wrong-"

"Like I could be pregnant?" Sam spit surprising both Bobby and Dean into silence, "Yeah, you're right Dean something could be seriously _fucking_ wrong." He yelled crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look away, "But I don't want anyone knowing who doesn't absolutely have to."

And that was that. They'd wait for the guy and forget the girl because Sam wanted it, and right now they'd do just about anything to make Sam happy knowing what he could possibly have to face in the very near future.

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes taking in the reality of their truly unreal situation, because Sam and pregnant were two words not _one_ of them ever anticipated hearing in the same sentence, but there it was. Sam had just thrown it out there, done with beating around the bush, ignoring the elephant, whatever.

Because it could very well be true.


	4. Life as we Know it

A/U: I don't know how it happens, but I always end up finishing and reading over my stuff at around 4:30 in the morning before finally passing out. Forgive any lack of editing, because I'm impatient to a fault and can't wait to post this when I know it's done.

Enjoy!

Xx

Sam was getting worse again. Quickly, and it'd only been a couple days since they'd talked about getting Bobby's guy down here. Sam had spent pretty much the whole time bed ridden though Bobby and Dean had talked him into a bath once, to cool down and clean up, it'd been two nights ago. Now he was covered in wet and dry sweat all over again.

Bobby had been outside calling the doctor, Dean at his usual position beside Sam's bed - patting his face with cold towels, re-bandaging his wound, cleaning up the cuts on his wrists and ankles - when Sam's breath suddenly quickened, scaring Dean out of a reverie.

"Sam?" Dean asked picking up the concerning change quickly.

"Something's wrong." He whispered and that was enough for Dean. His heart jack-hammered in his chest, his skin broke out in goose bumps and his head swam in dizzying circles, but his face showed none of it.

"Okay, where's it hurt Sam?" Dean asked quickly putting on his brother-at-work-don't-fuck-with-me face to keep a straight head and hide his overwhelming fear.

"I-it- oh _fuck_." Sam breathed and there went Dean's heart again.

"Bobby?" Dean bellowed knowing the sound would've made it outside had the door been cracked open or not.

"What is it?" The man pushed through the already open door in a heartbeat, his phone in hand when he came to the bedside.

"I don't know, he said something's wrong." Dean explained, rushed and a little panicked now that Sam wasn't paying attention: too busy clutching the bed sheet beneath him and focusing on breathing evenly, though heavily, through his clenched teeth to notice.

"Sam, stay with me son." Bobby instructed, Sam's eyes slid open to squint, "What's wrong?"

"Stomach." He ground out, "It's like, too much…pressure. I-I don't know…how to explain it."

"Doc's on his way Sam, an hour out tops. He was already headin' over when I called him. Think you can make it?" Bobby asked, his tone making it clear that he'd be all too happy to take Sam to the hospital if he thought he couldn't.

Sam nodded shakily, "'Course." Neither were convinced.

"I'm callin' him again. I'm gonna tell him the details 'a what's been goin' on alright Sam? If that's okay with you. Think it'd be best if he came prepared."

Sam hesitated but nodded once more and Bobby returned out front with a timid nod of his own, "It's gonna be okay Sam."

"This sucks Dean." Sam said a minute later trying to smile through his obvious pain. Dean squeezed the hand he was holding in quiet reassurance, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'm sorry man. I'm so sorry," He whispered and put his forehead down on the back of Sam's hand. The one he held in his.

"You would so kick your ass right now if you could see yourself." Sam whispered, his voice hitching slightly as his stomach muscles twitched and cramped to their own accord.

Dean did try for a smile that time, knowing he had to humor Sam as he was putting effort into making _him_ feel better when he was the one in pain, "I'll worry about my ass whoopin' later." He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes as he swallowed hard watching Sam's body shake and move without Sam's control.

Dean hesitantly put a gentle hand down on his upper abdomen feeling the muscles flutter and clamp under his hand, "Shit Sammy." He said, his voice rumbling like quiet thunder, "Try and relax," He cooed, "don't fight anything just ride it out. Let whatever's trying to happen, happen. I'm sure it'll stop soon." He said keeping his warm, wide hand over the hardened muscles.

And Sam, like the champ he was, listened.

He took a deep a breath and let it out slow, relaxing his shoulders, unaware they'd been tense until now. Then he released his rigid back muscles with the next exhale.

Dean didn't move the hand touching him and he didn't speak, knowing the concentration it took to focus through pain and relax when every instinct was telling you not to.

Sam continued the pattern, focusing on uncoiling individual muscles at a time before he was finally slumped down into the mattress, his body significantly less shaky and his breaths slower and closer to even. Dean ran his hand down Sam's forearm knowing the hard part was over, "Good job Sam," he whispered so Sam could just barely hear, "I'm proud of you." He added so he couldn't.

Bobby popped his head in and Dean whipped around, putting a finger to his lips to quiet him before he could speak. He nodded and glanced at Sam who he thought might actually have a chance at sleeping if they kept quiet, so he motioned Dean outside.

-"What'd the doc say?"

-"How'd you get him down?"

They both asked each other at the same time, then chuckled sheepishly.

Dean gestured to Bobby, so he repeated his question.

"Oh, um," Dean shrugged, "Just told him not to fight it, ya know. Breathe how dad used to tell us when he was stitchin' us up or whatever. His stomach muscles were cramping I guess, but after a couple minutes he seemed better."

Bobby nodded, "Good. Good thinkin' boy." He paused looking a little apprehensive to continue, "Speakin' of your daddy Dean, I never did get the chance to offer my condolences in person. I know it was over six months ago, and this shoulda come from me a long time ago, but I'm sorry. So sorry son. I shoulda been there for you boys I know, but thinking back on how me and John left things…I just wasn't sure you'd wanna see me." Bobby admitted looking guilty as hell. It was true; they hadn't left things on the greatest terms to say the least. But John had always had a way of rubbing people the wrong way intentional or not; it was neither of theirs' faults.

"Hey, don't Bobby. You know I understood. We both did, and we're okay." Dean nodded somberly to enforce his words, "The gig's dangerous." He shrugged looking down, "We're just glad he went down fighting, takin' that yellow-eyed bastard with him. If there was any way he'd wanted to go, it'd been that." Bobby agreed wholeheartedly still looking guilt-ridden.

"Seriously Bobby, don't worry about it. We made it through just fine," He lied, "Plus, you're here now, it counts for everything." He said knowing at least that part was true. And even though the last eight months had been utter hell, Dean knew company wouldn't have made it any easier. Bobby hadn't done anything wrong as far as Dean was concerned. He gave them their space, and that was all he'd wanted.

Bobby nodded again in appreciation of the sincere words and then shook his head quickly, "Kay now that we hashed that out, we done feelin' our feelin's cause the doc'll be here any minute and I for one don't need to be cryin' on your shoulder when he comes." Dean gave a rueful smile and nodded.

"Brings me to _my_ question," Dean started, "what'd he say when you told him? Or, ya know, what exactly did you tell him?"

"I told him everything we know, everything you told me." Bobby shrugged.

"Wait, even what they did to me?" Dean asked his brows practically hitting his hair line.

"Yeah." He answered as if that should've been obvious, "Boy there's a reason they wanted it. If there is a kid in there," Bobby pointed to the motel door, "And I'm not talking about your brother, then its half yours. You understand that right? The doc needs to know that-"

_No_. No he definitely did _not_.

"_No_." Dean voiced his thoughts, "We don't know _anything_ right now Bobby, don't go spewing shit like that…I can't _hear_ that!" He threw his hands up and faced away from his friend, silently fuming and freaking the hell out.

"Hey, hey your right son I'm sorry. But…in case…" He hesitated knowing he was treading rocky waters, "I just thought he should know. So he had all the facts. Every piece we got could help keep your brother…" His voice faltered as he realized he was about to say 'alive,' "safe." He finished instead.

Dean looked at him meaningfully, knowing exactly what his trip up had been about before he forced himself to relax and look away. Then he nodded minutely and was about to return to his brother when a Volkswagen bus pulled up next to Bobby's truck.

"Hey Bob-bay!" The man drawled as he climbed out, grumbling low in his chest and grinning like a fucking idiot with his arms out as he looked at him. It was the typical, I-haven't-seen-you-in-forever-come-here-you-ol'-pal greeting, like they were about to go celebrate with a drink and dinner – catch up on old times. And his brother was not fifteen feet away, possibly dying from God knows what some psychotic doctor did to him, waiting for his help.

So it was not a good first impression for Dean, he didn't want him near his brother pretty much at the first sight of the Volkswagen _bus_, but his sunglasses at seven at night and his slicked back hair and his stupid little greeting sealed the deal. How the hell did Bobby know this guy again? Definitely could not be hunting.

Bobby walked over to him though; they shared a one-armed man hug and then turned to Dean.

"Dean this is Tatum Meyer. Meyer, this here's Dean." Bobby motioned back and forth.

Dean moved only his eyes to look him up and down disapprovingly, making no attempt to hide it before he asked: "What do you know about medicine?"

The middle-aged, pompous guy had taken off his sunglasses and shoved them in a satchel he had over his shoulder. He flashed him a wide white smile, this guy could not be a doctor. They were supposed to be old and ugly and quiet. This guy seemed the opposite of all that, "I've been studying it since I was fourteen, runs in the family. I know just about everything there's to know." He answered, smile never wavering.

"So you know the situation?" Dean raised a brow, arms crossed over his chest defiantly.

"I do. Sounds like a pretty traumatizing trip you two had." He nodded sympathetically, it made Dean hate him more, "Speaking of, where is the brother?" He asked clapping his hands together in front of him.

Bobby nodded toward the door that was still slightly ajar, giving Dean a quizzical look when Meyer… Tatum…whoever turned back toward his piece of shit car. Dean looked at him with no hint of apology or explanation on his face, just annoyance. Bobby shrugged and waved him off before helping the guy move his supplies into the room. There was a big machine they hefted in together, it looked like one of those things nurses used to look at babies. Dean had seen them on TV before – right, ultrasounds. Looked like that.

Which scared the living shit out of him.

"Dean, grab the man's duffels from the back would ya?" Bobby asked without looking at Dean, making sure he knew it was a nonnegotiable request.

Dean huffed once they were almost inside and ran to grab them, uneasy about letting the guy near Sam without him around.

Dean made it inside in time to hear the end of the formal greetings. Sam looked exhausted and exasperated rubbing his eyes as he sat up and extended his hand. They shook and then the guy, Meyer, backed up noticing Dean was holding his bags.

"Oh thanks much Dean." He said with a smile and nod.

Dean raised his brow and smiled, though he knew it wasn't even close to touching his eyes.

"Alright Sam, how we feelin'?" Meyer asked taking a seat in the chair Dean had been occupying the past couple days, right up next Sam's head. Too fuckin' close for Dean.

Sam shrugged, "Fine." He answered, but both Bobby and Dean scoffed, receiving heated glares in response.

Meyer laughed nervously and the cocky persona Dean had been turned off by dwindled ever so slightly.

"Well, I mean no disrespect, but considering what I've heard about what you've gone through and what we could possibly be dealing with…I'm gonna go ahead and assume that answer was generous." Meyer said as he rolled the machine over and plugged it into the wall behind the nightstand.

Sam looked down at his hands looking…guilty. Like he'd done something wrong. Dean stepped around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to Sam shooting Meyer an incensed glower before taking Sam's hand silently.

"It's okay Sam…if you're not fine, you know." Meyer backtracked quietly, he now had rubber gloves on and a tube of something in his hands as he switched the machine on. Sam's eyes shot up and Dean could almost hear his brother's heart quickening from where he sat. "Alright are you ready?" Meyer asked, only then noticing the true fear in his patient's eyes, "This is just an ultrasound. It won't hurt a bit, we're just gonna have a look at what were dealing with." He attempted to console.

But Dean could see his brother knew exactly what they were about to do and could've cared less if it hurt or not, it was finding out the truth that scared him. Dean was right there with him.

Sam nodded anyway.

"Alright then, lift up your shirt for me." Dean watched as the brief spasm of fear struck like lightening across Sam's face, but it was quickly schooled behind a completely neutral, uncaring mask. Damn he was good at that, must've learned from him.

Meyer grabbed a tube of something and turned back to Sam before he noticed the bandage down his middle.

"Oh yes. Forgot about that. Well, we'll try and avoid it." He said happily, giving Sam a smile. He moved forward, the tube now open and hovering over his skin, "It's gonna be cold." He warned quickly before squirting a thick dollop on. It was freezing and Sam flinched at the contact, but Dean squeezed his hand and Sam's eyes opened to meet his brother's, responding to the silent encouragement.

Sam's brow wrinkled in slight desperation and despair, begging Dean to save him from this without words. It broke his already fractured heart and he couldn't help thinking once again how much Sam did not deserve this.

Dean was brought from his thoughts when a small hiss escaped Sam and Dean looked down to see the wand in the doctor's hand putting too much pressure too close to his cut.

"Watch it." Dean barked before Meyer moved away from the bandage. Meyer's eyes shot up to meet Deans for a quick moment, "Sorry Sam. Just trying to get a full picture." He paused and Sam shook his head to brush off the apology before Meyer returned his gaze to the monitor beside him, "Can I have you unbutton your pants for me Sam?" He asked without turning from the machine's picture. Dean couldn't help but notice the slight quiver in his voice as he asked, and his stomach dropped. He knew right away he'd found something.

Sam's gaze immediately flickered up to Dean's who was currently staring down the back of Meyer's head, angry. Dean knew he was probably deflecting his anger from the situation on an outsider third party, but this was already hard enough for Sam. Did he have to be asking shit like that all shaky and quiet, making it glaringly obvious he was freaked?

Dean buried his anger and turned an encouraging face to Sam, squeezing his hand again to rub his thumb across his knuckles, "It's alright." He whispered before letting go so he could follow the instructions. Sam's shaking hands slowly lowered until he could hook his thumbs in the waist band of his sweats; he took his time gradually pushing them down an inch. Meyer had turned back around to watch the two of them patiently, but he gave Sam a meaningful look before taking the sweats in his own grip and pulling them a little further. He shot one last apologetic glance his way before squeezing another dab of gel over a spans of skin a little low on Sam's stomach for anyone's comfort.

"Sorry I know it's cold," He muttered, though everyone knew that definitely wasn't the problem for the younger Winchester at this point. He just wanted this done with. Meyer angled the rounded wand so it pointing up Sam's body and continued his inspection, but Sam yelped as pressure was applied and pulled back. The doctor backed off right away.

"Tender?" He asked watching Sam closely; he just nodded, embarrassed, while Dean seethed expending no effort to hide it. Bobby thought it the appropriate time to calm the kid down before he decked the doctor from across the bed.

"Easy son, he's just tryin' to help." Bobby whispered quietly, bending so he was next to Dean's ear. And Dean visibly tried to ease his tensed muscles, if nothing but for Sammy's sake, as he nodded not bothering to look back at Bobby.

"Okay Sam," The doctor cautioned bringing the device back down to his lower stomach, "We'll get a quick picture and be done. Just try to hold still," He instructed gently as he continued running slow circles over his belly. Sam bit his bottom lip and did the best he could not to move but it was painstakingly obvious he was hurting. Dean was gripping the comforter under his hand so tight his knuckles were bright white and aching.

"How you doin' Sam?" Meyer asked quietly, once again keeping his eyes focused on the picture.

"Okay," He answered, voice trembling against his will.

"Can you try and describe the pain for me?"

"Um," He hesitated a few seconds, "It's like…a lot of pressure." He said trying hard to keep his voice even. "Like something's trying to get out of me…fuck I don't know how to explain it. Like someone's squeezing something inside me." He explained, obviously trying to make his explanation understandable. Dean felt that pride swell up in him again; Sam was handling this so much better than him. And he couldn't imagine being in his position.

"Okay, we're done." The doc said taking away and wiping off the rubbing thing to hang it up on the machine, "You did great Sam. I've got all the images we need." He smiled warmly, but it was clear he was avoiding coming out and saying what he'd found.

"Well…what are they of?" Sam asked tentatively, trying not to sound like a smart-ass.

"Don't you want me to print the pictures first, it'll be easier to understand if you can see." He offered a little shakily, avoiding eye contact as he took off his gloves. But that answer was enough, Sam gulped audibly and his face paled. He blinked twice but then shook his head.

"No, just tell me now." He said, his voice hard, "They put something in me didn't they? I can feel it." Sam shook his head already jumping to horrifying conclusions. Dean quickly scooted closer and put an arm over his shoulders taking him in.

"No, Sam. Shh, don't worry. They didn't. Doc?" Dean asked looking for a little reassurance. But all Meyer had to offer was an apologetic look.

"Sam calm down. You're healthy okay?" The doctor started and Bobby came to sit at the end corner of the bed, ready for the news they all knew was coming. "But it looks like whoever did this did add something. A new…piece." He said trying to put it into the gentlest words he could think of. Sam just scoffed and smiled through quickly watering eyes.

"Yeah a fucking uterus." He filled in for him, choosing once again to take that no-bull-shit route with his choice of words, "That damn fucking bastard found a way to give me _girl_'s reproductive shit and make it _work._" He nearly yelled, fighting hard against the urge to jump off the bed and break _every_thing in the room, "Didn't he? That's what this is from right?" He asked still kind of shouting as he pointed to the bandage on his stomach.

Meyer shrugged fumbling for words, "Probably, it'd be my only guess."

"Well...did he really make it work?" Sam asked a couple minutes later, fighting the growing tension in his throat and the gathering tears in his eyes, "Or did he just give me the parts?"

Meyer fiddled with his hands, keeping his eyes glued to their activity like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He glanced up at Sam twice, very fleetingly before down casting his eyes again. The expression he saw on the boy's face would've broken anyone's heart; he wanted nothing more than to tell him none of it was true. To stop being ridiculous because of course it was impossible. And he had only just met him.

"Normally I wouldn't be able to tell at this point, it should be too early to see with a sonogram machine." He began hesitantly, "But with the way it's positioned in you I can see everything clearer." He paused, "I'm sorry, but...I think he succeeded. From what I could see at least, I can run some more tests to make sure but..." The doctor shrugged helplessly.

And just one tear fell. Dean's arms went completely rigid and eerily still around Sam, but he didn't notice.

"And that's not…it." Meyer continued, regretting in that moment ever offering to come down here and do this for his old friend. Sam and Dean both snapped their heads over to look at him at the same time, "It looks to me that…there's more than one…egg…that's been fertilized." He explained hoping they each understood the meaning of those words. He didn't want to say it aloud. He didn't know if he could break these boys any further. They were already so dejected, liked they'd given up without even trying.

"_What_?" Dean nearly screamed as he shoved away from Sam and stood. Bobby quickly advanced to stand beside him, "Easy Dean. Come on now." He said quietly but Dean's gaze did not waver, it was frozen on Meyer who was still avoiding his eye contact.

"That better not mean what I think it does." He warned and the words sounded like a flawlessly delivered death threat; he was poised and more than ready to attack if Meyer even thought of confirming it.

"Okay, let's take a step outside. Hey Dean calm down," Bobby demanded more forcefully as Dean huffed deep, heavy breaths hands clenched by his sides. It took three excruciatingly long seconds for Dean to step back and practically lunge out the door slamming it behind him.

Sam hadn't moved an inch. Meyer saw the sheet-white shade of his skin and hollow look of his eyes and decided then that it might be best to make sure he wasn't going into shock.

"Hey Sam, you still with us?" Meyer questioned slowly reaching out to turn his face toward him, he didn't put up any fight. Bobby glanced at him before he nodded and then walked out the door to check on Dean.

"There's more than one?" Sam asked nearly inaudibly once the door shut. It was the only question Meyer had been hoping not to hear.

"I think so." He whispered, "There's…three, from what I can make out. I'm so sorry Sam." He offered, because what else could he say? Even if it wasn't nearly enough. He'd just told a seventeen year old _boy_ he was having triplets. Somehow sorry didn't seem appropriate.

But then Sam's eyes went wide with fear before they rolled to the back of his head and he was out.

Dean was pacing wildly outside when Bobby appeared next to him, startling him, but he didn't stop.

"Dean, you gotta calm yourself down." He tried and stepped in front of his hustling path, but Dean just side stepped him and kept walking, "_Dean_." Bobby warned. But he didn't turn back or stop walking, "Come on boy your better than this." He yelled, "If you think you're freakin' out think about how Sam feels. In there," Bobby pointed to the door, "Alone." That got his attention and his steps faltered.

Slowly, he spun around, not any less angry than before, but walked back toward him.

"Yeah, that's all I _can_ think about Bobby. Don't start questioning my priorities, I'm only worried about Sam here." He said straining to keep his tone under control, "But that's – those things…however many there are…they're Sam and…and _me_. Together. And that alone is so far beyond fucked up I can't even wrap my head around it." Dean huffed, breathless with panic before dropping his hands as he'd been gesturing with them and slumping in defeat.

"Yeah, about that. Did the guy not know you two were brothers?" He asked incredulously.

"No." Dean stressed, "He had our fake IDs, two different last names on them. And we were gagged from the get go, they made sure we didn't have a chance to say a word. I think they probably thought we were a…couple or something. But if I'd have known what they were doing, I would've tried harder to tell them. To make them understand, ya know." Dean explained desperately, as if Bobby not believing his words would be the end of him.

"Yeah of course I understand. This isn't your fault Dean. You understand that right?" Bobby asked, because he could tell that might not be the case.

"I'm 'sposed to protect him Bobby. And I fucked up. And now this happened, and I can't tell if this is all some fucked up nightmare I'll wake up from or a reality that's actually taken over our lives. I keep thinkin' maybe we're in a trickster's alternate reality, or maybe a Djin's playin' a prank, ya know. Because this can't be real. I mean, a pregnant _boy_ is bad enough…but a boy impregnated by his _brother_…with more than one kid? That's-it's…it's just too much Bobby. Even for us...it's too much." He sniffled, his voice hitching and breaking as he slowly broke down, "I can't do this. I couldn't save him, and now he's gonna either die or have our deformed kids…and I just…_fuck_." He whispered thickly as he clutched the front of Bobby's shirt, his eyes wide and pleading before he let the levy brake and all the tears came out at once in horrible broken sobs.

He sunk down into Bobby's chest before his knees gave out, but Bobby caught him and lowered them both down onto the concrete walkway in front of their motel room. "Alright, son. It's alright now." He consoled, holding him tight and letting him ride out the water works till his eyes were dry and red, his face puffy and his nose completely plugged. He was a wreck. The picture of a broken man. And Bobby had never seen him so lost.

Suddenly the door opened and Dean somehow couldn't find it in himself to care that Meyer stood before them, witnessing their entangled position on the ground.

"What is it?" Bobby asked, his words short and irritated as he held the still limp Dean in his arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized, "But its Sam. The stress, well it's not uncommon. The brain can only process so much at one time." He said dazedly, as if it'd actually explained something.

"Think you missed the punch line there." Bobby quipped, temper still high, "What happened?"

"Oh of course. Sam passed out." And Dean was up and inside before either realized he'd moved.

"Sammy." He called, taking a seat next to his unconscious brother and quickly wiping off his face. He brushed unsteady fingers over Sam's forehead, pushing bangs out of his eyes as the doctor and Bobby walked back in.

"He's stable, the rest is probably good for him now anyway. He just needs time to process, it was a lot to hear."

Dean nodded and it was quiet for a moment, "So you said more than one." He paused and his fist clenched unconsciously, "That mean…twins?" He asked through tight lips, finding it physically difficult to get the words out.

"Um, well, triplets actually." He explained as quietly as he could, as if that would keep the news a little lighter or something. Dean turned to him, his face such a striking a shade of red-purple he was actually concerned with his health for a moment. "It's-it's not typically uncommon for artificial insemination to increase chances of more than one egg fertilizing at a time, if done correctly I suppose. They must've been giving him hormone injections to increase…" And he stopped, knowing his rambling was doing very_, very_ little to comfort the boy who'd just had his life flipped upside and down and turned inside out.

Dean calmed down minutely as the minutes passed and Meyer took his opportunity to drop one last bomb while Sam was still unconscious.

"Bobby, Dean," He addressed, "I feel we probably should keep this to ourselves, but you should both just be prepared with the knowledge that his body's not equipped to handle this at any rate. He may now have a few new parts, but he's not a woman, and there isn't room in his body for _one _baby, let alone…three. I just, I need to prepare you for a probably pretty strenuous few months ahead and the possibility that not all the fetuses will survive-"

"That's fine with me, it's not like we want them. They're probably all mutilated anyway." Dean interrupted and Bobby shot him a discerning look before motioning for his friend to continue,

"And that they could possibly cause harm to Sam." He finished solemnly, "We'll need to keep him bedridden for probably all of the second and third…trimesters." He swallowed hard, "I still have a few tests I want to run, like I said. And I'd like an x-ray done, but before any of that, I think we need to move. Sam can't be in a motel for the next nine months and he definitely can't be hunting. We need a stable place-"

"We'll go to my house." Bobby ordered, waiting for no reply before he began packing up his and everyone else's things. Dean took a few more minutes with Sam, just trying to understand how their life had become this unrecognizable nightmare in a mere few days, before moving to help the doc and Bobby.

They were on the road within a half hour, Sam still out as Dean carried him to their Impala. "You lead Dean," Bobby said speaking over the bed of his truck, "Pull over if _any_thing happens with Sam, we'll follow."

And then they were off, speeding down the highway, heading to their uncertain and impossibly frightening future of the nine terrifying months that lay ahead.


	5. No Quick Fix, No Time Out

_**A/U: Hello lovelies. I don't have much to say besides the usual. It's late and I'm only editing this once, like always, so excuse errors and crap writing. I know it'll escape me in here somewhere.**_

_**Chap Warning: Bad words, medical terms sort of?, hurt Sammy, mpreg.**_

_**Twinchester keep your reviews comin'. They're fabulous, thanks so much hun:D**_

"I don't understand why we can't just take it all out of him!" Dean asked trying not to shout. He'd passed exasperation hours ago. Dean and Meyer had been arguing about abortion and surgery options for Sam since practically the second they'd arrived at Bobby's.

"Because I need to run blood test and x-rays…" The doctor replied trying to keep his calm, "Dean this could be seriously dangerous for your brother, we just have no idea-"

"No you know what could be seriously _dangerous_ for him? Have three _fucking_ kids!" Dean screamed, absolutely loosing it.

The doc took two deep breaths as they fumed at each other and then finally proceeded, "I've never dealt with something like this before, Dean. I wouldn't even know how to begin the surgery to take everything out and Sam's body hasn't recovered enough for me to go in and try and abort the babies safely. Both options could _kill _him." He emphasized, voice strained from trying to keep it low, "Be patient." He growled and turned on his heel, done with the conversation.

On the way over to Bobby's Sam had woken up from his unconscious slumber, confused to see the road flying by him out the Impala's window. Last thing he remembered was the motel. But Dean had quickly explained, pulling over to let Meyer check him. After a clear bill they'd set off again, giving Sam a chance to deal with the news that'd dragged him under in the first place. Unfortunately 'dealing' proved a little more difficult than he thought or could handle so as soon as they'd arrived he'd escaped to his unconscious once more.

He remembered wishing he could stay there in dream land forever if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with this shit anymore – it'd been his last thought. Until now, when he'd been ripped from sleep by distinct voices yelling at each other. To his fierce disappointment, almost every word between his brother and doc reached him, even through the closed door and pillow covering his head. He didn't want to hear about this anymore, and he definitely didn't want to hear about it if it was the doc giving vague, half-assed explanations about why he _wasn't _going to try and fix him. Which was exactly all he heard.

The yells died down after a while and he heard the doc speaking quietly before a few seconds of silence, then footsteps ascending the stairs. His door creaked open a couple inches and Sam saw Dean grimace at the sound, probably thinking it might wake him. But then he caught his eye, realized Sam was awake – had been for a while if the look on his face said anything – and right away felt incredibly guilty.

"Shit. Sorry Sammy. We didn't mean to wake you." He said quietly as he entered the spare room. Sam was curled up on his side, looking as dejected and heartbroken as Dean had ever seen him. He suddenly wished he'd go back to being angry instead, at least then he'd had some life in him. Some fight.

Sam shrugged lightly, "It's fine."

Dean sighed as he sat down behind his brother's back, "We're gonna figure something out kid. Don't worry okay I'm gonna take care of this." He promised, wondering if there was any chance at all he could keep his word.

It was Sam's turn to sigh as he rolled halfway onto his back to look at his brother, "How can you say that. You heard Meyer. It could kill me if we mess with this, and it could kill me if we don't. I'm fucked Dean…"

"Don't you _dare_ say that Sam. You start giving up now and of course you won't stand a chance, but if you keep fighting, if you remember how much you have to live for…I know you'll be just fine." Dean said, voice shaky and stressed and so full of sincerity he surprised himself.

"How much I have to live for?" Sam asked in astonishment, "Dean I don't have anything to live for." He stated completely serious, "Hunting's over – not that I'll miss it but at least it gave me purpose – and school's out of the picture, that 'normal life' I wanted... _gone_. There's nothing left for me." Sam finished finally looking up to his brother. He was taken aback by what he saw.

Dean had tears in his eyes, big fat welling _tears_, "Sammy," He breathed, "You have _me _man." He stressed, voice deep and thick with the ball in his throat, "I can't believe you think you've got nothing to live for." He shook his head, brow furrowed in disbelief, "As long as I'm around you have _me_ to live for whether you feel you like it or not." He said mood suddenly shifting, "I frankly don't give a shit if you _want _to be around, you're staying, because-" He huffed and tilted his head down to look at the bed spread, Sam watched a small tear fall, "Because if you don't…I'll be right behind you." He swore, looking back up.

"Dean, no." Sam said suddenly frightened, "Don't you ever say that." He growled almost repeating Dean's previous words, "I mean, it's not like I'm gonna go off myself or something because life is shit right now, I would never do that to you." He shook his head trying to meet Dean's eye, "But…I don't ever want to hear that again. If something happens to me in all this, if you lose me, you do not get to _follow_ me." He said, voice hard and unforgiving, "You get to stay here and keep hunting, or find a wife or do whatever but point is, you're staying here." He pointed down, his words sharp and desperate, "Understand?"

And boy did Dean like being bossed around… but he accepted it. They were basically asking each other to promise not to kill themselves, so as fucked up as this conversation was anything was going at that point.

Dean took a minute and they both simply stared at the other, trying to decipher what was going on behind the eyes they watched. Finally Dean spoke, "Okay." He whispered, "But then you gotta promise me man you won't go doing anything stupid…you won't start talking like your life's already over again cause that shit…that's gonna be a deal breaker for me. I can't hear it, never again alright?" He asked, the words loaded with more meaning than just their own, "And for the record, you're not goin' anywhere either alright?" Sam nodded, his almond, hazel eyes showing the depth of his belief. He trusted Dean. If he said he was going to make it through this, then it had to be true.

"Okay, so are we done with this?" Dean questioned a moment later, his tone lighter, "Cause I think I passed my quota of emotional shit just walking through that door." He teased and nudged Sam's shoulder. He gave his own little crooked smirk back and that was that.

The heavy stuff was over and the only remnants to prove the conversation ever existed were the dried tears on Dean's lashes. Sam watched them dance and twinkle in the glowing light of the late afternoon sun as they sat on their bed and tried to just…talk like they used to. With their light banter and inside jokes, their memories of times they both understood: anything besides the fucked up reality they were both living now.

"Hey Sam." Meyer walked in a few hours later, after they'd all eaten a quick dinner and retreated back to their rooms. He had a brief case in his hand as he pushed open the door, "Can I come in." It didn't escape either Sam or Dean that he was only addressing Sam now. Dean gave a light chuckle at that but kept his eyes away from Meyer, not wanting to egg him on too obviously.

"Yeah." Sam said as he sat up straighter against the head board. Meyer nodded and walked in.

"I'd like to take a blood sample if that's alright with you."

"Uh, yeah." He agreed looking straight ahead, "What's it for again?" He asked quietly, simply curious.

"Just like to get a feel for how your immune system's doing, see how your body's reacting to the new…additions." Meyer offered taking out a rubber strap and syringe. Dean absentmindedly wondered when they'd all stop tripping over their words trying to talk about the…situation. Yeah, probably never.

Meyer tied the rubber strap around Sam's bicep, which until now Dean hadn't really noticed was quite as impressive as it was, and a couple seconds later the veins started to rise. It looked good spanning across his wide, tanned forearm. And what a strange thing to notice, Dean thought, but hurriedly brushed it off as Meyer's voice pulled him from his head.

"You've got some Hulk veins goin' on Sam." Meyer joked quietly, seeming uncomfortable with the silence that'd settled. Sam gave him a quick smile, trying to appreciate his effort at humor in this mess, but rapidly returned to his brooding thoughts.

Sam didn't move, didn't twitch or wince when the needle pierced his skin, not that anyone expected him to, but seeing Sam so hard and tense, it made Dean uneasy. It was so unlike Sam, all tough and masked.

So he grabbed Sam's hand and gently stroked the back with his thumb, very uncharacteristically, but he just wanted to see his brother again. The softer one. He take the girly emo version over this hardened, lifeless one any day.

And he got him: Sam responded to the touch, turning his attention away from the needle in his arm and looked up at Dean, smiling with eyes. Dean smiled back, teeth and all.

It took about two minutes and then they were done. Meyer pulled out the offending syringe, took the vials of blood and thanked Sam before standing.

"I have friends at the hospital nearby, they'll let me run my tests there…obviously I don't have equipment to do it here or I would. My daughter's bringing over the rest of the supplies I'll need. I pretty much have a hospital in my home, if we were there we could do this more discretely, but I'm sure your more comfortable here so, it's no problem." He shook his head looking away like as he started out.

"Why are you doing all this?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.

"Bobby's my friend," He shrugged, "I owe him a lot and he asked me to. Plus I feel I'm a part this now. I have to see it through…call it a doctor thing." He chuckled and turned away again. Dean still wasn't sure how he felt about the guy, but he couldn't deny he was grateful having him around.

"Well, thanks." Sam muttered and Meyer left with nothing but that bright smile he seemed to wear like a pair of pants.

It was four hours later, midnight, when Sam woke up from a light sleep he hadn't wanted to be pulled from. He wondered for a moment what'd woke him up, but then he felt it.

Oh shit.

He laid back down as his heart started racing and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. Something shifted, pulled and then pierced through the very bottom of his stomach.

"Ah, fuck" He whispered, careful not to wake Dean in the next bed. It kind of felt like when someone massaged a knot in your muscle too long and too hard, it ached and contracted with spasms and jolts, pulling on muscles around it. And this was no different; he couldn't control it, he was at his body's mercy and hated that it felt so out of control. He managed to stay quiet for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, before he started muttering muffled curses into the crook of his arm.

_Don't wake Dean. Don't wake Dean. _

He chanted to himself, but just then as if his body was taunting him, it upped the ante. God it felt like someone with wringing out his gut like a rag.

He whimpered and bit down on his lips unable to stifle the next couple affronted moans that escaped him. And, of course Dean woke to that. He was attuned to the sound of Sam in pain; it could've passed as a fire alarm for _him_ considering how loud it was to his ears.

"Whoa Sammy what's wrong?" He asked, voice ruff with sleep as he quickly rubbed his eyes to see clearly.

"I-I don't know. It's the same…like before." He ground out trying to settle his uncontrollable writhing.

"Bobby!" Dean yelled, and did this feel vaguely familiar… "Get the doc." He kept shouting.

A minute later both men came bursting through the door.

"Sam," Meyer said determinedly, "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's his stomach," Dean said for him knowing it was hard for him to speak, "It did this earlier. Before you got here," The doctor was already pulling up Sam's t-shirt, "He said it was cramping or something. It went away after a little while." Dean explained trying to stay calm.

"It's worse." Sam added faintly and his face scrunched up, "Ah-i-it aches but it _burns_ and stings. I can't-I don't…know how to explain it." He kept going, voice quiet and so full of pain Dean was going to lose it, "Like someone's ringing out my gut or using it on a cheese grader or somethin'." He paused for a second and everyone winced at that mental imagery, "It's like it's…making me want to-" Through all that pain Dean could see he was embarrassed. It made him all the more curious, and scared shitless.

"It's okay Sam, try and relax." Meyer spoke up encouragingly as he laid his hand on Sam's stomach, where Dean's had been the last time this happened, "Your muscles are contracting pretty intensely, it's probably making you feel like you need to push?" Meyer offered looking to Sam for confirmation.

Sam looked surprised through his grimace, but nodded his agreement, "But I can't…" His breath stuttered and caught, "'Cause it hurts like a bitch."

"Alright, then you need to relax Sam." Meyer said and took away his hand, "Don't push, you'll hurt yourself." He instructed, his eyes hardening to hide their concern. Sam didn't catch it, a little preoccupied as it was, but Dean sure as hell did.

"Okay Sam, hey I'm right here." Dean said choosing that moment to intervene seeing the doc had no more to offer. Sam looked over, eyes bleary and nearly closed, "That's it, just focus on me and remember how we did this earlier." Dean gently laid his hand back down where it'd been last time, wincing when he felt the muscles tensing and rolling under him: as if something was clawing to escape or tearing itself apart, "Alright remember, you gotta breathe Sam." Dean said, but he wasn't sure that alone would be enough this time, "Hey, remember the first time you rode a bike?" Dean asked, hoping a gentle distraction would make it easier for Sam to concentrate on relaxing; he could easily see it'd be harder for him to just _let go_ this time. His body was working fervently against his efforts.

"You were seven." He continued, "I was so proud a you. You were a pro right away. Doing so good, just flyin'." He chuckled lightly though he felt no real humor at the moment, but Sam was still paying attention, trying to even his breaths, so he went on, "I had a hold of your seat, running next to you, and I could see you had it." he said animatedly, "So I let go. But then a couple seconds later you realized how fast you were going. You turned around for help and ended up jerking the handle bars, landing in that rose bush." Sam actual smiled at that, somehow focusing on Dean's walk down memory lane through his pained spasms, "I took you inside and Dad started cleaning out your scratches. Man they were everywhere. I felt so bad," Dean shook his head but kept his small smile in place. "That was the first time dad gave you the 'Winchester's pain' speech." Dean said deepening his voice to sound like their father, Sam grinned again and nodded,

"Yeah, it's basically a rite of passage in this family." He said, voice sounding whiskey-scratched and broken, but he kept the smile intact. God Dean admired this kid; he was so much stronger than he often gave him credit for.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "You remember what he taught you that day. Told you the stories about people who could concentrate – could focus hard enough to block out pain altogether, like those coal-walkers. It's all about focusing on something else, convincing yourself that pain's just a state of mind, not physical." Sam nodded again, already much calmer; his muscles were still acting to their own accord but he wasn't fighting it so instinctively anymore. "Focus on that. Remember that. And keep breathing, nice and slow. It'll be over in a couple minutes." Dean soothed rubbing the hand over his stomach slightly, feeling the muscles calm.

Sam lifted his hand and put it over Dean's, light but still warm and comforting over his muscles. "Thanks Dean." He whispered, the words heavy with meaning.

Neither boy even realized their audience had left the room a while ago, seeing the situation had been under control. They still hadn't noticed a few minutes later until Sam was completely relaxed, wiped out and limp on the bed, eyes fluttering closed and snapping back open every few seconds.

"It's okay Sam, you can sleep." Dean whispered. Sam nodded gratefully as if those were the words he'd been waiting for and rolled over snuggling into his pillow. Dean watched affectionately, heart swelling and clamping and freezing as different thoughts drifted through his clustered mind.

Finally, once he thought Sam was asleep, he got up and walked out into the hall making sure he avoided the floor boards that creaked so as not to wake Sam. He heard voices drifting up the stairs from the kitchen as he snuck down them quietly, stopping when he reached the entry. He knew he shouldn't be eaves dropping, just the principal of it all, but he couldn't help himself. He flattened his body against the wall outside the kitchen and listened,

"…yeah that was pretty incredible." He heard Meyer say, "Just watching the light flood that kid's eyes when Dean started talkin'. I've never seen that kinda trust between two people before."

Dean felt an insane swell of pride at the words, and he knew he should have stopped there, but something kept him in place.

"They're definitely one of a kind, those boys." Bobby agreed.

"It must've been their father's death that brought 'em so close. I heard the great John Winchester passed a few months ago."

"Well, it's true, but I don't think they've changed all that much since it happened. Not with each other at least, they've always been that close. But Sam sure as hell's grown up since it happened. Dean's always been mature for his age, basically raised Sam." Dean heard Bobby pause, "But Sam, he's more and more of a man every day I see him. He took their daddy's death pretty hard, I know he did. And now with this whole situation…he's gonna be seventeen goin' on forty pretty soon." Bobby huffed a partially humorless laugh.

It was true; Sam was more of an adult every day, out growing the little shreds of innocence he still had right before his eyes. Dean could see it all too clearly. And their dad's passing had a lot to do with his jumpstart toward adulthood, not to mention their profession…but this? If they didn't find a way to fix it soon, Sam was going to lose any childhood, or teenage-hood he should say, that he had left.

"Dean?" He heard Bobby call and he jumped, startled out his somber thoughts. He looked up to see Bobby opening the fridge, getting a clear view of where Dean had been hiding, "What're you doing out here boy?" He asked shutting the door and approaching him, "Sam okay?" Dean was grateful he hadn't brought up the fact that he'd rudely been loitering and obviously eavesdropping.

"Yeah he's asleep." Dean said pushing off from the wall and scratching the back of his head shyly. Bobby nodded considering him for a moment, but Dean felt scrutinized under the watchful gaze and quickly slid past him into the kitchen to see the doc leaned up against the counter.

"Dean," Meyer greeted with a polite smile. Dean nodded and grabbed a beer from the fridge, offering one to Bobby, figuring that'd been what he was after earlier. He took it gratefully.

"So, Meyer, you have any idea what these little episodes are about?" Dean asked trying desperately to keep the serious fear pulsing through him out of his tone as his mind conjured up all sorts of horrific ideas. All ending with Sam's death. He couldn't suppress his shudder.

"Well my guess is his body's trying to expel its new additions. It realizes something's changing the way it's used to functioning and it's working to get rid of the source." He shrugged, "But I could be wrong."

"Okay well if that is true though, and his body's already working to get that shit out, I don't understand why we don't just help out a little?" Dean asked seeing his opening to restart their earlier 'discussion'.

"Dean, you're not talking about some little quick-fix procedure here." Meyer enforced with a stern gaze, "You're asking me to _reopen_ him up a couple days after his last surgery and remove a whole system from his body. One that's been newly _attached_ – sewn into him. You can't just-"

"Wait what do you mean sewn into him?" Dean interrupted, a little horrified.

"Well I'm not absolutely sure, I'll have to ask Sam if he knows anything about it, but I was looking over the pictures from the ultrasound again and if I'm not mistaken it looks like the uterus had been anchored to his body so the exit is the anal canal. I think the doctor who did this made room by cutting a piece of the colon so both share the exit, once the babies are ready to be born though I think the colon will close as he dilates-"

And that was officially all Dean could hear and way, _way _more than he ever wanted to. He sprang from the room, barely making it to the toilet down the hall before spewing his guts out. He knelt there, wretching for a good five solid minutes and panting into the sick-smelling air around him before quickly flushing the toilet. He fell back against the wall behind him, completely dazed as he continued greedily sucking air into his lungs.

Bobby chose that second to softly push open the door and peer his head in.

"You okay son?" He asked gruffly. Dean could tell he'd been as shocked as he was by Meyer's words from the look in his eyes. He was trying to hide it, but that had not only been way too descriptive and totally crude – in his opinion at least – but it'd also made this entire thing as real as it could get.

Dean tried to nod, but took a second before changing his mind and shaking it vigorously.

No he was not 'okay'. 'Okay' had been a distant land of hunting and the road and slummy motel rooms and Sammy. _This_ – the psychotic doctors and overly blunt, I-don't-know-when-to-shut-up doctors and babies and a seriously traumatized brother – this was a land that'd never heard of the word. He was very, so very far from 'okay'.

Bobby came in and took a seat next to him, mirroring his position with his elbows resting on knees, hands loosely clasped together, and face drawn into an unrecognizable mask of too many emotions.

"I know." He whispered, "That was a lot to hear. I gave him an earful for announcing his…theories like that." Bobby spit the words like they were poison and shook his head, "But we'll figure this out." He added more smoothly.

Dean shook his head. "Everyone keeps saying that. Hell even I'm saying that…but what the fuck is there to figure out _really_ Bobby?" Dean felt the tears already gathering, "My brother's pregnant." He whispered and suddenly felt the urge to vomit again.

He clamped his fist down in front of his mouth and sealed his eyes shut, half way trying to stave off the tears and half way focusing on the nausea. Eventually he got his stomach under control though, and the sting of rebellious, salt-ridden tears won, beating him down relentlessly and he couldn't – just _couldn't_ fight them. He couldn't find the strength.

Once again, he broke down for Bobby…who simply wrapped an arm over his shoulders and sat with him quietly.

Dean let go with quiet, almost silent sobs muffled into the crook of his forearm. The only way Bobby even knew he was crying was the gentle shakes of his hunched back and the stuttering inhales Dean tried to control. That and the soft splash of small tears hitting the linoleum beneath them.

And Bobby didn't say a word. Knew if he did Dean would clam up like a frightened animal and fight this even harder. He'd ignore it and bottle it and bury it until it literally exploded out of him. Bobby had seen it happen; the boy had very precarious, ineffective ways of dealing when it came to emotion.

So damnet Dean needed this. He'd never admit it, not in a million years, but he had to get rid of all this anger, this fear currently drowning his world _some_how. And if it wasn't this it was too much alcohol and a lot of violent destruction.

So he stayed quiet through Dean's release and instead grasped the bobbing shoulder under his hand tighter, squeezing gently to steady the boy.

They sat that way for a half hour, Bobby's legs were falling asleep and his back was killing him, but he still didn't say a word and made no move to get up. Not until Dean finally lifted his head, his tears long since dried and stood without a word. He held a hand down for Bobby who took it gratefully and hauled himself up.

Then they left that little bathroom and didn't speak of its occurrences again.

Dean didn't have the energy to confront Meyer about his words, and he knew tomorrow would be awkward as hell if he didn't do something about it now, but at that moment he didn't care and went straight up to his and Sam's room. The door creaked a little when he pushed it open and he hoped it didn't wake Sam as he padded silently over to his bed. But his hopes were diminished when he noticed Sam's eyes gleaming in the white light of the moon.

"What are you doing up?" Dean asked abandoning his bed in favor of Sam's.

Sam shrugged the shoulder he wasn't laying on, "I heard you coming up the stairs. What were you doing?" He asked, voice trembling slightly.

"Nothing really, had a beer." He lied, "Sammy you okay?" He asked putting a hand on his shoulder. Sam took a deep breath and kept his eyes down while he seemed to debate something in his head. Dean waited, patient.

"What's happening to me Dean?" He whispered nearly inaudibly, "You think this is what happened to the other guys he did this to? What if this is what happened before they died?" He asked keeping his voice a crisp whisper, not trusting his voice.

"No Sammy I don't. I was talking to Meyer downstairs," He began, proud he didn't falter over the words as they reminded him of that _other_ part of their conversation, "He said he thought it was just your body reacting to the new stuff. Trying to get it out or something. But if we keep doing what we're doing, just letting it run its course and keeping you relaxed, they'll pass and you'll be fine. I'm sure it'll stop soon." He didn't look quite convinced, "I swear nothin's gonna happen to you as long as I'm around." Dean promised, reassured by the same words he'd spoken to Sam a million times before. He'd always kept his word then, so he had no intention of breaking it now.

"But if I'm already trying to get it out then why can't we just take it out?" He asked unintentionally rewording the exact question Dean had asked not an hour earlier.

Dean shook his head sadly, "I asked the same thing. Apparently it's a lot more…complicated," he swallowed trying his damnest not to let the doc's words re-run through his head, "than we thought." He finished just a beat too late. Sam looked mad and for good reason, but confused too, in that puppy-dog-eyed sort of way. The one that made Dean want to slap him upside the head and spill his guts and pull him into a hug all at the same time. But he didn't do any of those things.

"You need your rest Sammy. C'mon close your eyes." He whispered rubbing Sam's shoulder gently, completely slack and hunched as exhaustion overwhelmed him. He wanted to sleep, so bad, but he needed Sam asleep first. "I will climb in this bed with you right now if you don't listen to me." He threatened, but Sam's defiant glare didn't falter and his eyes definitely didn't close. So Dean, a man of his word, climbed over his brother and yanked down the comforter, crawling under and jumping around as he got comfy.

Sam couldn't help but laugh lightly as he watched Dean bounce like a five year old until he was flat on his stomach, face toward Sam, breath coming out of his nose in loud puffs. One eye cracked open as he felt Sam watching him.

"_Sam_." He warned, and Sam sighed closing his eyes.

A few stretching minutes passed.

"Jesus man could you keep your thoughts to a dull roar?" He asked mildly irritated as he jolted upright onto his elbows and looked down at Sam, who was feigning sleep.

"It still creeps me out that you can always tell somehow when I'm not sleeping." Sam said opening his eyes, "I'm sorry," he apologized a moment later, "but I'm not tired. I've been sleeping all day, and when I wake up in the middle of the night I can hardly ever get back to sleep you know that."

And yes Dean most certainly did, it'd kept him up on countless occasions before, entertaining little Sammy till sleep reclaimed him. With a sigh he realized tonight would be no different.

So like the incredible older brother he was, Dean turned over onto his back and sat upright, gently pulling Sam to rest against his chest. The way they'd done so many nights before. He snagged the remote from the night stand and turned the TV on, keeping the volume low enough that they could still talk, like he knew Sam would want to do, and rubbed his back soothingly, calming him back down. He kept up his ministrations for a while as they shared quiet meaningless talk to the background of a sitcom rerun until finally he could feel Sam going slack in his arms.

_Yes_. He sighed, settling them down into the mattress and passing out as soon as he heard the soft snores coming from the limp figure asleep on his chest.

_**A/U: Sorry I know, me again. Okay after reading this, I couldn't help but feel it might've been a bit choppy. I don't know if it's just me being delirious and tired or if it's true. But if it is, I do apologize! Sorry again for mistakes. Hope you all still enjoyed it anyway. You can tell me in a review;)**_

_**Have a fabulous Holiday and I'll see you all on another chapter soon!**_

_**Review Review Review!**_


	6. Bucket of Water Before Dawn

_**A/U: Looks like we're going the wincest route. I can never resist. It will be a very slow development I'm sure, but it will be around. Besides that I'm not sure what to say about this chapter. I didn't spend much time on it, and it's probably full of errors, maybe a little slow, but hopefully readable. I'm sorry, I hate it when people downgrade their work, just read it and tell me what you think. And MissTTucker here's the explanation you've been wantin**___

_**Warnings: most mildest of wincest, language, and descriptive explanation of medical procedure.**_

Dean woke to a heavy, very hot weight covering his body. Way too many blankets, he thought, or maybe his duffle had ended up on the bed on top of him, full of weapons and clothes alike. Or maybe Bobby's dog had jumped up and was laying on him. Strange conclusions to come to, he knew, especially since Bobby's mutt had died years ago, but ones his sleep-fogged mind reached nonetheless.

That was until he cracked his eyes open and set himself straight, realizing this heavy thing was no dog or duffle, it was Sam, and it wall _all_ of him. Dean could hardly breathe; Sam had his arms folded under his head and over Dean's chest, his hips had fallen between Dean's legs – snug and _right_ there, meeting places of Dean he never _imagined _his brother would know – and his legs were intertwined with his, from thigh to ankle.

It was like Sam had gotten tired of the mattress during the night and decided to use Dean instead.

And the scariest part of it all was Dean didn't mind the weight, the heat, the closeness at all. He relished it, the contact: he liked the feel of curvy, hardened muscles rising and falling on top of him. And right now, he was currently sporting some serious morning wood to match the hardened length of his brother, the one he could feel running up his crotch.

And holy shit that was enough for him. Reality broke through that fogged mind and he was almost jumping to get Sam off.

"Sam." Dean said quietly, placing a hand on his ribs to shake him, "Sam c'mon wake up." He urged, voice gravelly and gritty with sleep. He wanted him off, but he wasn't about to shove him across the bed to get him there, so he was gentle.

Thankfully it worked anyway and Sam began to stir.

"Uh-uh." He mumbled his protest into Dean's chest and shifted slightly against him, rolling his hips. The unconscious movement sent heat ricocheting through Dean's body as their cocks slid against each other, the only barrier being the thin fabric of their boxers. He actually had to stifle the groan, knee-jerk reaction that almost escaped him; so he bit down on his lip.

But then it was only a matter of few seconds before Sam realized the bed he was laying on was moving and had a thundering heartbeat pumping up into his chest. "Whoa, what the fuck!" He yelled, quickly shoving up and off of Dean scampering to the other side of the bed.

"Easy man, don't rip your stitches. Just take it easy." Dean calmed holding up his hands to hopefully cool Sam down and relay some confidence that it was okay, whether he felt it was or not.

Sam calmed down marginally and sat back against the headboard, taking a few deep breaths to calm his erratic heart. Eventually, he turned to look at his brother, "Sorry Dean," He said, voice high and still laced with surprise, "I didn't-I don't ever remember…well, just, sorry." He finished choppily, still sounding more stunned than anything.

"Dude don't worry about it." Dean laughed, shaking off his own surprise of the moment and chuckling at the sheer level of sincerity in Sam's voice, "How you ever pulled that snuggle bear move last night and kept me asleep is completely beyond me though." He laughed again gently shaking his head as he swung his legs out of bed.

"Yeah, really. Must be loosin' your touch tough guy," He teased, "Any old shape shifter or vampire could've come in here last night and just laid on top of you. You wouldn't have even twitched." He snickered and climbed out of bed himself.

"Laugh it up geek boy. You're the one who was cuddlin' with your big brother last night. I'm takin' a shower." He said with a smirk and huddled up a bundle of clothes before escaping to the bathroom.

He shut the door quickly and fell back against it in the same beat, tossing his clothes onto the sink counter.

_What the hell was that about?_

He thought to himself worriedly as he slipped off his boxers and night shirt.

_Seriously, what the fuck Dean? That's your brother you were just _turned on_ by._

He scorned noticing then that his hard-on was no less prominent now than it had been with all that heat pressed up against him – his brother's heat, he reminded himself.

God, he couldn't even bring himself to jack off and properly get rid of his arousal like he did every other morning, knowing where this had sprung from – no pun intended.

He turned the water as cold as it could go and forced himself under the freezing spray. His teeth immediately started chattering, but after a few minutes, his dick admitted defeat and slowly softened, returning to its rightful place between his legs.

"Oh, thank g-god." He breathed and added heat to the water rushing through the rest of the shower.

Dean decided to let the incident disappear completely from his mind after dressing and heading out to the kitchen. There were more important things to deal with after all, he could chalk this up to a number of things. All of which certainly did not point to him being a completely fucked up older brother.

No sought-out distractions were necessary though to put his words into action as he stepped into the kitchen. The doctor, Meyer, was sitting at the head of the table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh, morning Dean." He greeted quietly, moving away from the almost empty plate of waffles before him to stand awkwardly. Dean didn't say anything but moved to the fridge in favor of seeking out his own breakfast, opting not to strike up conversation with the man. Lord knows what he'd say this time if he did.

"Look I'm sorry about last night," He tried when he didn't respond. But Dean didn't give an inch and simply kept rummaging through the drawers, "I shouldn't have said those things. It's all just theory and I went into that whole 'doctor mode' just rambling my thoughts. I was intrigued with the impossibility of these medical advancements that I never thought could be made…point is I was caught up in it and forgot how sensitive the issue is. It was basically me just-"

"Dude." Dean said whipping up to put his hand out in a gesture to shut him up, it worked. "Just stop. You're sorry. Got it." He dropped his hand, "It's alright. But for future reference…you ever tell me something like that again, the _way_ you did, I will not be held accountable for shutting you up myself. If there's something I need to know, I want it as sugar coated and vague as you can possibly get it, understand?" He asked pushing aside the fact that he had little right to be bossing orders. Meyer was there of his own accord and could leave them all to flounder on their own at any moment, but at that moment he didn't care – if he was going to be here, he needed to watch his mouth.

Thankfully Meyer just nodded to Dean tightly and said, "Of course," before taking his plate to the sink and washing it off. Dean sighed, little tendrils of guilt slithering up his spine as he grabbed an orange and left the room for more distraction. He'd go see why Sam wasn't down yet.

Bobby entered the kitchen intent on making his morning cup of coffee when he was greeted with Meyer already up, washing dishes in the sink.

"Mornin' Meyer." Bobby said gruffly, "You don't gotta do that, I can have Dean do 'em later." He smiled to himself as he started up the coffee machine.

"Actually I was thinking you could ask him to go buy groceries today or something. Get him out of the house for a little while." He answered continuing on with his scrubbing. That stopped Bobby's task for a moment and caught his attention as he turned around to face the back of his friend.

"And why exactly would I do that?"

"Because I need to talk to Sam." He said calmly as he turned around drying off the last plate, "And he won't leave his side long enough for me to do it alone."

"I don't see any problem with that. Why would you need to talk to him alone?"

"Because Dean specifically asked me not to let him hear anything graphic or unnecessary about the situation. And I need to ask Sam about the last procedure. The one he was awake for." he explained, still calm as ever.

"What?" Bobby exclaimed, "No, no you don't. Don't you dare. It was bad enough the first time, you're gonna ask him to relive it?" He scowled voice grumbling heatedly.

"I need to know what happened." He stressed, "Or at least what he thought happened, what he felt. And before you start yelling at me again, it's _important_ or you know I wouldn't ask." He said giving him a pointed look, "I need to know because…honestly these episodes could be nothing, just a normal bodily reaction that's essentially harmless. But it could also be an allergic reaction or a reaction to infection or a dozen other things that are not at all harmless so unless you want me to perform a very invasive procedure of my own and see what the bastard did for myself, I need to ask him." He said his voice growing stronger and more strained to remain calm as he went on.

And Bobby couldn't argue with that one. When it came to one of these boys' safety, there wasn't much he'd refuse to do.

"And also I doubt Sam would say much with his brother around anyway." Meyer added to resolve his request. Bobby nodded.

"True." He hesitated, "Alright. I'll ask him to go pick up a few things, but if Sam wants to tell him what we did or tell him whatever he tells us you're not stopping him."

"Obviously." Meyer answered simply.

Dean had walked into their room to see Sam had fallen back asleep, jeans halfway on but not buttoned around his waist, one sock on, and the other hanging from his limp hand, like he'd passed out in the middle of getting dressed. He would've found the sight pretty hilarious had the situation been less tense and worrisome. He rushed to his side and shook his shoulder gently, "Sam?"

Sam's eyes fluttered and snapped open as he tried to shoot upright, but Dean held him down and shushed him. "Hey you're okay." He said quietly, "Just makin' sure you hadn't passed out or something. If you're tired man sleep. There's nothing better to be doing around here anyway." He told him as Sam settled back into the bed.

Dean smiled fondly at his little brother, half reassured because he hadn't fainted, and half freaked that he was so tired he almost fell back asleep instantly when he relaxed again.

But then he guessed if _his _body had been through what Sam's had, he'd want to grab every second of sleep he could too. So he let it go, softly working Sam's pants back off without waking him any more than he had to, and tugging the comforter from under his legs to place it back over him.

He quickly made his way from the room and decided to try for a real breakfast this time, hoping Meyer would be out of there now as he quietly padded down the stairs. He stopped just short of the kitchen though when he heard intense voices talking in hushed tones from inside.

And man, this felt so familiar he almost couldn't stay hidden to eavesdrop again, he felt too guilty. But then he caught his name in there and well, how could he not listen then?

"…because Dean specifically asked me not to let him hear anything graphic or unnecessary about the situation." He heard Meyer's monotone voice explaining, "And I need to ask Sam about the last procedure. The one he was awake for."

Oh fuck no. There was no way he was letting Meyer put his little brother through that hell again. Dean grinned slightly when he heard Bobby voice his thoughts and told Meyer there was no chance in hell he was doing it. But then as he listened on Meyer's reasoning won over Bobby, and he had to admit, himself too. Because it was Sam's health, and he'd trusted Meyer when he said he thought the episodes were nothing harmful. But now hearing that he honestly didn't know, that it _could_ be something dangerous, well that scared the hell out of Dean. He'd already reassured Sam that this was nothing to worry about, he couldn't be wrong. Not now.

He quickly moved away from the kitchen once he heard the conversation end and escaped to the bathroom upstairs. He closed the door behind him, breathing heavily but quietly through his nose to calm down and process all he'd heard.

Bobby was going to ask him to go out, run an errand or something, and then they'd talk to Sam.

Well fuck if he was letting that happen. He would be here when Sam told them, if he was resorting to eavesdropping, hovering, hiding the shadows again, so be it. He'd be there for his little brother.

It was a mere twenty minutes later when the inevitable request came and Bobby asked him to run out and grab food for lunch, that they were out of lunch meat for sandwiches or some bull shit. So Dean got in his car and waited about thirty seconds before racing out and back inside as silently as he could, making sure every room was empty before flying through them. He was outside his and Sam's closed bedroom door in a matter of seconds.

Bobby was thankful it hadn't taken much effort to get Dean out of the house as Meyer and he walked into Sam's room and quietly shut the door behind them. Bobby pushed Meyer back as he advanced to wake the sleeping boy and instead made his way over to Sam's side taking a soft seat on the chair by the bedside.

"Sam?" He asked, his voice hushed. A part of him hoped Sam wouldn't wake so they couldn't do this, he really didn't want to know about it remembering what Dean had said: Sam screaming, thrashing, in that much pain. There wasn't even the smallest part of him that wanted to do this.

But Sam's eyes fluttered open after a moment anyway and crushed his hope as they flitted up to meet his, half-lidded and hazed with confusion. "Hey kid, sorry to wake ya." He grumbled still keeping quiet so as to not completely shatter the deafening silence surrounding his words, "But Meyer needs to talk with you a minute." He said as he looked from Sam's puzzled gaze to his friend, still hovering by the door.

Meyer took his cue and stepped forward until he was seated in the chair beside Bobby's. He took a deep breath, shot a fleeting glance toward the closed door and opened his mouth to speak when Sam interrupted.

"Where's Dean?" He asked pushing himself further upright and rubbing a knuckle in his eye, "Why couldn't this have waited a couple hours? What time is it?" He continued turning to steal a peek at the clock, his brow shooting up when he saw the time.

"Dean's out gettin' lunch, this couldn't wait cause it's important and it's a little after eleven." Bobby fired off without missing a beat as Sam resettled in his bed, folding his legs Indian style under him.

He couldn't believe it was half past eleven, sleeping that late was like sleeping all day for a Winchester.

"Okay then. Shoot." He said tentatively, looking at Meyer with wary in his eyes.

Meyer gave him an equally guarded look in return before sighing, "Sam these episodes you've had…I don't _think _they're anything serious or life threatening, but in order for me to really judge I need to know what exactly is happening. There could be injuries I don't know about or things that happened before that could be influencing what's happening now, and I need to know." He explained, easing his way into the conversation, but Sam just looked at him expectantly obviously hoping he'd stop beating around the bush and just ask whatever he needed to ask already.

So he obliged just as ready to spit it out as Sam apparently was to hear it, "I need you to describe what happened when the doctor performed the second procedure. Or at least what you think he did, I know you don't know exactly because he never fully explained, but just be as detailed as you can. Please," he added remembering his manners, "this is important." Meyer finished, taking on his full professional doctor persona again to try and emotionally detach himself from the conversation.

"Uh, why?" Sam stammered quietly, avoiding eye contact, "It was nothing, I'm fine. It doesn't have anything to do with what's happening now." He said stupidly, knowing full well that everything that'd happened with the doc was causing what happened now.

"It could have everything to do with what's happening now. The ultrasound did the best it could to give me a picture, but I'd need an MRI or CT to really understand what he did, which both could potentially harm the fetuses or you, and since I can't do that, the only other option - if I don't just ask you - is to use a camera and look for myself. Which…I'm sure you'd rather not have me do as much as I'd rather not put you through it." He concluded, huffing a short breath and folding his hands in his lap as he leaned forward, hoping everything he'd said made sense. Because he honestly wasn't sure.

Sam was eerily silent for a minute, debating his options through his still mildly sleep-muddled mind. He eventually looked up to Meyer, eyes wide and trying desperately to stay neutral as he made up his mind – or had it made for him. However you wanted to look at it.

"Obviously I don't have much of a choice here." He said, his stern, chilled gaze fixed on the doctor before a less hard, more frightened one flickered over to Bobby. He looked away just as quickly though, his face flushed red as he averted his eyes to his hands.

God, he did not want to be talking about this with anyone let alone his oldest, closest family friend. But Bobby seemed to realize that as he stood and clapped his hands on his thighs, "I think I'll go get a…beer." He said coming up with a reason to excuse himself on the spot before he patted Sam's shoulder gently and walked across the room, pushing open the door and swinging it closed behind him.

Dean had made it to the bathroom in the nick of time when he'd heard Bobby's footsteps approaching the door, heart thundering in his chest at almost blowing his cover. He stayed hidden until he heard the footsteps descend the stairs and then his hand immediately grabbed for the door handle, ready to take his place outside their room again. But he hesitated.

_Oh, this is wrong. _

Eavesdropping on his brother as he described what was sure to be one of the most invasively personal and horrific experiences of his life?

_Really wrong._

He wanted to _be_ there for Sam, not to abuse his trust and get information by hiding in the shadows. He thumped against the door and slid down until he was on his butt, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees as he waited in silence, hoping he'd be able to go see his brother soon.

Neither Sam or Meyer mentioned Bobby's absence once he was gone and the room remained silent for a good thirty seconds before the doctor prompted him to start again.

Sam sighed, his eyes, that were until then full of various different emotions, grew cold and distant, like he was withdrawing himself from the situation before he began, looking up to stare at the wall before him,

"The doc meant to knock me out for it. He wanted me on a surgical table or something, but they ran out of anesthetics," Sam's eyes remained dark and so empty they almost frightened Meyer, along with his voice, so hollow. But he didn't stop him and instead waited patiently until he spoke again, reminding himself this was important, "He just said time was of the essence and started anyway. I was standing up sort of, you know, hanging from the ceiling, so he got behind me…on a chair or something and he had a tray of supplies next to him. I tried to see what was on it before he started, but all I saw were metal tools I didn't recognize and a long, flexible…hose, I guess. Then he started and I didn't have a chance to look any closer."

The grave monotone of Sam's voice had Meyer on the edge of his seat, wanting to bolt from the room and erase the last few minutes to get rid of the sound. But he didn't. He waited again and instead tried to regain some of the same emotional detachment Sam had.

"He…put something in me," The boy continued keeping his eyes glued to the blank white wall before him, "It was just uncomfortable at first, but then something started clicking like he was cranking a wheel or something. And whatever it was got bigger, I think he was making room to…work." He stopped and looked down, that emotional distance faltering ever so slightly, but he slowly exhaled a long breath and brought his eyes back up, hard and empty again, "Next I felt something metal and then pressure, and then stinging like he was cutting me. But it was deep…in me, so it was different…I don't know how it felt. It just stung and pulled, I guess, and that went on for a while." Meyer's stomach rolled uncomfortably, that was the stitching; he was sure. God to be awake through that, he just couldn't imagine.

"Once he was done with that, he pulled the stuff out, and I can only guess he used that plastic tube cause something else went in, and it just kept going, I actually thought I might die…" He admitted almost surprised at the revelation, but he made sure to quickly return the terse distance in his eyes, "And my stomach started cramping, like it has now, but worse and then I heard something…sounded like he was putting something up the tube and then I don't what he did, I couldn't feel anything besides that pressure, but he kept me like that for a few minutes before he was done."

Sam concluded finally looking at Meyer, still so void of…anything. Like the conversation had drained him of any human emotion at all. The sight scared him and he found himself suddenly really wishing Dean was here. He quickly stood, "Sam, thank you. I know this was…well, just, thank you." He muttered quietly, "You did really good. Helped a lot." He said sincerely before leaving to gather his thoughts…and to get a beer. Or a double shot of whiskey, he'd decide when he got there.

He was passing the bathroom to get downstairs when he heard a scuffling on the other side of the door. It wouldn't have caught his attention if he hadn't heard someone shut the fridge downstairs at the same time. His heart leapt, he guessed Dean was back and quickly continued down to the kitchen to tell him to go see Sam.

He was surprised when he reached the kitchen and saw Bobby at the table nursing his second beer. He jumped up from his chair when Meyer walked in, "How'd he do. He okay?" Bobby asked in one quick breath. Meyer's brow crumpled,

"Did come in while I was gone?" He asked ignoring the questions.

"No, not that I saw. I didn't hear the car or the door." Bobby offered equally confused now, "Why?"

Meyer didn't answer that question either but headed back up the stairs, Bobby in tow. He noticed the bathroom door was open now and the small room empty. They both continued to the end of the hall and to Sam and Dean's room. The door was closed.

Bobby looked at Meyer expectantly; his brow raised as he tried to figure out what exactly they were doing. Meyer held up a finger to him and leaned an ear against the door, quieting his breathing to listen closely.

A quiet muffled crackle sounded from the other side. Like the comforter rustling on the bed, "Heya Sammy," He heard, then a quiet sob, "Sh, sh." He heard, then some a few more nonsense words of comfort and rustling of sheets.

He could've sworn he heard the crack slither up his heart as it broke and fell in two.

"Dean never left." He whispered almost silently to his friend as they each retreated quietly, leaving the boys to do what they did best and heal each other.


	7. Revelations, Transitions, Tears

_**A/N: Oh man guys. To whoever's actually following this story, I'm really sorry. Truly. But I won't bore you with the details that kept this chapter from coming out sooner, because there are none really. Just laziness and lack of inspiration. Yeah I know, this early on? Sad, pathetic Kelsey. I'll work on it.**_

_**And confession…I haven't, repeat have not, read this whole thing through. Not one time. I've done my best at editing it, trying to make it sound like it wasn't written by a third grader (and I seriously hope it makes sense all the way through) but I will promise nothing. **_

_**Hope ya'll enjoy it anyway!**_

_**Chap Warn: Language, Protective!Comforting!Dean, Hurt!Sam, Mpreg**_

Dean had walked in to find Sam folded up on the bed, unmoving, blank stare fixed on the wall before him. The look scared him, and not much could, but to see his usually vibrant, lively little brother so hollow, that definitely sent through him a shock wave of fear. He was like an empty shell, drained of life and fight. And that just wasn't Sam.

"Sam?" He asked as he shut the door behind him. There was no response, he kept staring at the wall, hands limp in his lap, bangs dangling in his eyes.

He was going to kill the doc for asking him about that procedure. He knew it would dredge up memories Sam never wanted to face, just as he knew talking about it would solidify this nightmare into reality completely for him. Because saying the words out loud was like admitting it really happened, and he could see the defeat coursing through his brother so clear as he approached him.

"Heya Sammy," He said keeping his voice light and gentle as he climbed onto the opposite side of the bed. He was shuffling on his knees to sit next to his brother when Sam finally turned to him – acknowledged he was there and then rolled off the bed in one unreasonably graceful move so his back was toward Dean.

That way he couldn't see the big, pathetic tears welling uncontrollably in his eyes.

But trying to hide them meant nothing; Dean knew they were there. It was obvious in the rigid set of his shoulders and the deep, overly-controlled breathing filing in and out heavily through his nose.

In one swift movement Dean had pulled Sam onto the bed again, his back against his chest, resting their bodies on the headboard as he folded himself around his younger brother. "Sh, sh," He whispered amenably, "You're okay. We're okay." He finished, voice almost inaudible, muffled in Sam's dark locks.

Sam didn't resist as Dean had expected, instead he turned into his chest burrowing there, as if the closer he could get the safer he would be.

Hands twisted into fabric, wrinkling clothes under vice grips as they clutched each other, Sam drawing in the comfort he needed to steady himself, Dean acting as the anchor. Time stilled, suspended in the air as Sam drew in a deep, staggering breath. It stayed there, hanging around them like a conductors pliant hands just before a symphony begins, and then it all crashed into action again as Sam finally let go.

He cried hopelessly with a ferocity Dean didn't know he possessed, sobbing wretched, harsh and broken cries into his brother's chest, shaking them both to the core. And even though Dean had done this already, cried himself dry twice now trying to accept this, he couldn't avoid the single sparse and silent tears that slithered down his nose and into Sam's hair. Because the tortured sounds coming from the shaking body in his arms were shredding Dean. He couldn't take it, the soft hiccups, the hitching breaths, the desperate weeping sobs, the soft scrape of blunt nails as hands scrambled for purchase.

An insurmountable time passed as they stayed that way, rocking and gripping each other until Sam's eyes couldn't stay open any longer and he couldn't breathe through his stuffy nose. Eventually he drifted to an uneasy sleep.

Dean slipped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him, dropped his face into his hands for a short second before setting out determinedly to give Meyer a piece of his fucking mind. Or fist, he'd decide when he got there.

He burst into the kitchen, the now dried tear tracks still visible on his face, as he searched for the man. But they weren't there, he ran through the dining room, living room, finally making it to the library where he found both Bobby and Meyer, sitting quietly in front of the fire place.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He spat as soon as he spotted the doctor, calm as ever as if what he'd done hadn't just caused his brother to go into hysterics.

"Dean-"

"Sam's fucking wrecked because of what _you_ asked him to tell you." He said pointing a finger into his chest as he spoke. Meyer took a step back, not out of fear or remorse, but to move with the force.

"Dean, calm down." He tried, "I'm sorry Sam's upset but-"

"Upset?" Dean yelled, losing his non-existent patience, "I've never seen him like that in my life, Meyer. Ever." He roared, "_Why_ did you ask him about that?" He asked, holding none of his fury back.

"You know why." He shot back, "You were listening in on our conversation_ again_, weren't you?"

"Yeah, you're damn fuckin' right I was," Dean snarled not at all deterred by the confrontation.

"Well, then you know why. For his own safety. The better I understand what happened, the better chance I have at keeping him healthy now." He said refusing to back down as he took in a deep breath, "And it's a damn good thing Sam told me what he did too. Now I know what I need to watch out for, and specifically what I need to check on now. Both things that, left unattended, could seriously harm him." Meyer said raising his voice to match Dean's. He did what was necessary and he wasn't going to feel bad about it, damnet.

For a moment, Dean was distracted from the heated wrangle, "Wait, what do you mean? What things are you gonna check on or watch out for?" He asked skeptically.

Meyer calmed down, following Dean's lead, "There are a few things the doctor did that I'd like to look at and make sure are healing right. I don't want anything getting infected. There's no way his body could handle it right now."

Dean's brow furrowed, "What like his stitches or...the other stuff?" He asked hesitantly, Meyer sighed.

"I'd really rather talk to your brother about this before I discuss any details with you."

"What? That's bull shit." He retorted, "I need to know what the hell's goin' on, what that bastard did to him if its gonna hurt him now-"

"Dean." A voice from behind them sounded quietly, interrupting as it turned their attention away from the conversation. Including Bobby's who had been standing on the side lines as the two quarreled, opting to let Dean get everything out of his system.

"Sam." Dean answered sparing one last heated glare toward Meyer before approaching his sleepy brother, "Damnet, should've kept it down. Sorry bro." He apologized wondering how many times he'd have to wake his brother during his fights with Meyer before he learned to keep them quiet.

He shook his head at his own stupidity as he wrapped an arm over Sam's shoulders, taking in his puffy eyes and still plugged nose as he did so.

Sam shrugged under the gentle weight of his arm and turned toward Meyer, talking to him from across the room, "Answer Dean's question. I don't care what they know." He said, his voice void of any real emotion again. Dean's grip tightened on his shoulder, not enjoying the sound or words at all. Of course he wanted to know what was going on, but he didn't want Sam to concede like this. Like giving up.

"Are you sure Sam? We can just step in the other room and discuss it if-"

"Why would we?" He asked derisively, stepping out from under Dean's arm, "Any privacy, any decency or normalcy any other human gets has been stripped for me." He spit, "I don't get the privilege of secrets or space anymore. 'Cause my body isn't _mine _anymore; its everyone else's to poke and prod and experiment and test on now. Nothing is mine to just keep to myself!" He shouted, gesturing wildly as his rant grew more and more frustrated. He took a few deep ragged breaths, before looking around the room as if he'd just realized he'd been yelling before turning on his heel and booking it out of there. They all listened to the jangling of keys being snatched up and the door swinging open before slamming closed.

It only took a handful of speeding heartbeats before Dean was out the door behind him. But the impala was still parked where he'd left it which meant Sam was still here, so he relaxed minutely as he sped towards it.

Sam was on his usual side in the passenger seat, head lax against the back of the bench, arms limp in his lap, eyes closed and breath quickly evening out. Sam hadn't noticed him yet, so he quietly made his way around to the driver side door and tapped gently on the window before opening it.

He peered in at Sam's bright hazel eyes from the doorway, the intensity of the gaze a little unsettling until it broke and turned down to his lap. Dean climbed in then, only just noticing Metallica drifting into the car from the speakers, filing the silence with quiet but sharp beats and harsh guitars.

Dean raised a brow, asking Sam his unvoiced question.

He just shrugged, "You always said Metallica calms you down. Thought I'd give it a try." He gave him a half-smirk and looked away again. Dean's incredulity softened and withered away at the words and the sadness he heard in them.

The music was already soft, so when Dean spoke it was just an added supple hum to the car's background noise, "Sam, what you said back there, is that really how you feel?"

Sam looked sideways at him with wide, expressionless eyes, "Yeah Dean," He answered truthfully, "Because it's true. I have to tell him everything. Everything that happens, everything that already did happen, no matter how personal or humiliating, so he can keep me alive." He sighed, "But I am sorry for how it came out. I'm not mad at any of you, Meyer included," Sam shot him a pointed look, "It's just been a shitty day and I kinda lost it. Before too, sorry about that." He said referring to the crying jag earlier this morning in their room.

Sam's face grew hot remembering, Dean didn't like the look of the embarrassed flush, it didn't belong there.

"Sam I've lost it _twice_ now, with Bobby. Blubberin' like a fuckin' baby all cradled up in the old man's arms." He laughed ruefully, "Trust me, you've got nothing to be sorry for." He shook his head smiling over at his brother. And Sam let out an actual chuckle at the mental imagery that description provided.

Dean nearly bounced in his seat, beaming with excitement at the sound, his heart ready to squeeze out from behind his ribs and literally take flight.

How long had it been since he'd heard Sam laugh? God, however long he'd missed it.

Dean sighed contently as they relaxed into the silence, just listening to the cassette tape fill the quiet car with the soothing sounds of the music they'd grown up to.

"Hey Sam?" Dean asked, breaking the quiet once a song came to an end, "Wanna go get some lunch? Those two were trying to get me to go out for food earlier, we could do it now if ya want?" He offered hopefully. He could really use a little time away from this house, just a few minutes on the road with his baby and his brother, doing something normal.

Sam looked confused for a moment, but then agreed with a quick nod. Dean ignored Sam's perplexity not wanting to explain why they'd tried to get him to leave and instead dug in his pocket for his phone, throwing it open and up against his ear as he called Bobby. He started the car the rest of the way just as the man picked up. He quickly explained they were going out for food and was out of the lot before Bobby could even respond with his: "Well, it's about time. I'm starving," and tell them to hurry back.

Sam could visibly see the waves of tension dissipating from his brother as he sank into the familiar rumble of the impala, more than happy to be back in front of the wheel, doing something tedious and inconsequential for a change.

Sam couldn't help but smile at the sight, it was Dean again. Cocky, confident, relaxed Dean, no sign of the masked blank expression he'd been hiding under this past week of horror. None. Because now they were off to the _grocery store_, shopping for lunch like two entirely ordinary people would.

And they were both pretty damn happy about it.

"So what sounds good?" Dean asked once they'd parked the impala and were walking through the automatic sliding glass doors into the fairly crowded little shop. Sam suddenly felt the irrational urge to hide, like everyone would be staring because somehow they'd _know_.

_Get a grip._

He berated himself even as his eyes danced around from person to person, looking for stalking eyes. "Uh, whatever's fine. I'm not that hungry." He mumbled trying to keep his head down as he led the way to the most deserted isle. Dean seemed to pick up on his unease fairly quickly as he sped off after him.

"Hey wait up," He said as he latched onto Sam's arm, "What's wrong, Sam."

"Does it feel like everyone's looking at us?" He asked quietly as his eyes darted around the store again.

"What?" Dean asked dubiously, voice high, brow higher, "Why would they be staring Sam? Just stop, you're being paranoid and you're freakin' me out. Hey, _look at me_." He demanded slapping hands on either side of his neck, "Enough." He said in that tone that always put Sam back in his place. "There's no reason anyone would be lookin', unless it's at me and my stellar good looks, so calm your shit and let's shop." Dean insisted with a barely-there but playful smile. Sam couldn't keep in the breath of laughter at his brother's rant either as he nodded, seeming to redeem some of his cool as he followed Dean's orders. He straightened up and lifting his eyes to scan the place more calmly. No one was staring.

"Mac and cheese." Dean said as he spun and headed down the aisle, forgetting the slip-up moment in their uneventful trip. "That's what I want. With some hotdogs and…" Sam let Dean talk on as he followed a few steps behind and shook out his shoulders, stretching his arms to physically shake his paranoia and enjoy the time with his brother.

Dean threw a heavy arm over Sam's shoulders as he snatched a few boxes off the shelf and continued down the alley.

"So?" Dean continued, "What do you feel like?" He asked again as they left the aisle and started through the more crowded open spaces of the store, all the while keeping his arm securely over Sam.

Sam felt the unease melt as soon as the weight of Dean's arm was over him, like a security blanket warding off any and all self-conscious fear as they made their way through the store. He was immensely grateful for it too as he did catch a few people glancing their way, if only because they hadn't seen them in town before, and immediately wanted to jump to conclusions about it. But Dean kept him properly distracted as they weaved through the shop, glued to each other as they picked out lunch.

Once at the register, they ended up with a rotisserie chicken, a salad, a bottle of soda, a package of hotdogs, and Dean's Mac and Cheese. Sam quirked a smile glancing at the _Sponge Bob_ kid's package he'd gotten, all the noodles were shaped as characters from the cartoon show. He shook his head as they shuffled their way up the line until at the end, when they were standing before a beautiful brunette with a name tag 'Lindsey' dangling off her cropped black T showing skin all over. She was maybe twenty years old, with long dark lashes that surrounded dark almost black eyes, they noticed, as she looked them up and down appreciatively.

"Howdy boys," She greeted with a coy smirk and a southern twang. Sam blushed on instinct watching her grab the small bottle of soda first and stroke it suggestively as she wrung it up, "How are ya'll today?" She asked around a piece of gum, emphasizing her light accent. Dean chuckled watching her slip the item into the bag.

"Great." Dean said lifting his eyes to her, "And yourself?" He asked as she took the chicken and slid it over the flashing red light, eyes snapping up to Dean as the beep sounded.

"Much better now." She said around a mischievous smile. Her eyes slid to Sam then, who had been idly trying to stay out of the exchange by pretending to give his full attention to the magazines surrounding them. "And how 'bout you sugar?" The girl asked, trying to gauge Sam's attention. And she did, because he really had a hard time being rude to people in small talk conversations. He gave her a semi forced smile, not really into forward women as they always just ended up making him uncomfortable, and returned to the magazines.

So she returned to Dean who was pulling a twenty from his wallet, now eyeing her with something like resentment in his eyes. She retreated from him, looking at that hard glint in those nearly black pools and focused on ripping off the receipt and handing him his change instead of her flirtatious attempts at chatting.

Sam noticed Dean's quick flip of attitude as they strode out of the store quickly, "What's wrong with you?-" He began asking only to stop dead as he gripped Dean's arm with a harsh slap of his palm just before they got out into the street, "Oh shit." He cursed quietly, voice gruff, eyes distant and wide – scared.

"What – Sam?" He asked turning from the road to see his brother's frozen stance, "Sam?" He repeated, his voice louder, stressed.

"We gotta go Dean." He ordered waiting for no resistance or questioning before he was stomping towards the impala, bag swaying jerkily in his stiff hand. Dean was after him in a second.

Sam felt another shift in his stomach followed by an uncomfortable pull and knew he wouldn't be on his feet much longer.

But then Dean had his elbow clutched in a strong fist, helping him to the car like some elderly woman. He really wanted to shake him off and glare, but for one, he was quickly losing the strength to pull such an audacious move, and two he'd be on his ass the second he tried.

Dean, who'd caught on by now, jerked open the passenger side door and sat Sam down throwing the forgotten lunch to the back seat. "Alright, Sammy take it easy." He instructed firmly, just like he had so many times before: after hunting injuries, nightmares, child-hood crying fits when their dad was gone too long, it should've felt familiar and comforting hearing the words. But now, as he spoke them to console him in _this _situation, they somehow felt tainted.

Sam nodded shakily and kept his eyes away from the hovering older brother as he tried to assess their best options. "Okay, I'm gonna lay you back." He said seeming to come to a solution as he put a hand flat in the middle of Sam's chest and pulled the lever on the side of the seat to lay the back down. "Just hang in there man."

Sam grunted with the movement and tried to curl in on himself as soon as he was horizontal, but was stopped.

"Hey, Sam stay on your back," He insisted, voice tight and sharp as his palm pressed gently into his sternum, "Remember you gotta relax. It'll be over sooner if you do."

"Ugh-huh fuck," He groaned unintelligibly in a near sob as he panted gravelly, voice catching in the depths of his chest, "God I hate these." He muttered as his muscles started up their impromptu dance, whole body trembling with the effort to relax, paradoxical as it was.

"Hey okay, just hang on. I'm gonna get you outta here." Dean whispered just loud enough that Sam could hear as he ran a hand through his hair, noticing the stray strands that were quickly darkening, matted to his skin with cold sweat. He got up to leave only to fall back to his knees as he ran into a heavy, metal thing that rattled when he crashed against it. He turned, pissed at the hindrance and saw a cart full to the brim with plastic bags in his way. A man rounded the navy van they were parked next to and saw Dean staring at his load with mild fury.

"Oh sorry sir, just let me-" The man with wire-rimmed glasses began, chopping off his sentence as he caught sight of Sam, trembling and writhing, unable to restrain all of the groans and gasps escaping him, "Um, you're, he's," He started pointing desperately at Sam, Dean stared knowingly back at the man and made no move to turn and look at his brother, he knew full-well what was going on, "Are you taking him to a hospital? He could be having a seizure, sir I'm a physician let me have a look-" He rambled on shoving his cart out of the way as he advanced, Dean side-stepped him blocking off his path to Sam though.

"Sir, move there could be something seriously wrong with that boy!" He exclaimed gesturing around Dean to point at Sam again.

"All due respect doc, I have this under control. Please, get out of my way." And what the fuck was it with all these doctors, _everywhere_. Could he catch a damn break, an hour away from them maybe?

"No _you_ get out of mine, that boy needs help." He persisted attempting to get around Dean again. But he didn't move, and he really just didn't have time to do this gently.

He slammed Sam's door and walked right up to the pompous, pushy, do-gooder man stopping only when the man took a shuffling step back, "Sir, you can either get the _fuck_ out of my way now, so _I_ can take care of my brother, or I can move you aside but you better choice quick cause I'm losin' patience." He snapped, voice so low and cold the man had no choice but to step away backing up against his car.

Dean's instinct had had him itching to simply shove the dude up against his stupid minivan and forget the speech, but his conscious had him speaking anyway, especially since the guy was only trying to help, irritating as it was.

Dean huffed a sigh and sped around to his side of the car, shot the man one last glance and muttered a quick "Thanks," for whatever reason he couldn't fathom before peeling out of the parking lot so fast he might've burned the rubber off his tires.

"How ya doin' Sam?" He asked tensely through the treacherous sounds coming from his brother as he tore one his hands off the wheel and laid it on Sam's stomach. He winced as he felt the harsh spasms and heard a specifically tortured cry grumble out through Sam's chapped lips.

He pulled off the road before Sam could attempt at an answer, opting to cut the drive short so he could take care of him, knowing returning to Bobby's would do nothing more than he could do here. Moving Sam right now was impossible anyway, so he parked in front of a sad looking creek, thinking it was deserted enough that they wouldn't be bothered and pulled himself across the flat bench. His knee pressed to Sam's quaking shoulder as his hand flattened against his stomach, warm and attempting at reassurance as it rested just below Sam's ribcage. As per usual the muscles were frantic and tense and knotted as they jerked Sam all over the place.

A rasping moan drew itself out from Sam's curled back lips, bearing his straight line of teeth as he clutched the hand rested on top of him. He clawed at Dean, obviously looking for some kind of escape as his teeth started gnawing on his lip.

Dean exhaled sharply through his clenched jaw, frustration taking place of heartbreak in attempt to keep his strength as he watched Sam fall to broken pieces.

"Alright Sammy, c'mere." He muttered as he maneuvered himself onto the back of the bench still laying flat and gently lifted Sam until he was resting against his chest, strong arms circled around his middle, keeping him grounded. "You're okay. Just ride it out lil' bro, breathe." He tried in his best deep, authoritative tone, but it came out as more of a desperate plea as he pressed a hand into Sam's heart, feeling the erratic beat under his curled fingers.

After a few seconds though he felt Sam relax the least bit under his grasp and his hand returned to Dean's, the one over his belly, to squeeze it. The most thanks he could conjure at the moment, but it brought the sharp prick of tears to Dean's eyes.

He buried his nose in Sam's hair and fought the urge to rock them back and forth as he stroked the muscles soothingly with light fingers, Sam keeping his hand on Dean's all the while. The only noise was Sam's heavy, harsh breath, loud and deep and booming through the confines of the car and interrupted only every once in a while by the stray whimper or grunt. Dean's hand would still against the twisting muscles and add gentle pressure and heat until they calmed enough for Sam to breathe again. The pattern went on for a half hour at least as they sat, entwined in the other's arms for the second time that day, waiting out the third occurrence of the strange, intense episodes.

The shudders eventually slowed and lessened in their strength as Sam let his body be controlled by forces outside his will and 'rode it out' just as Dean had said. Finally, it was over, and Sam was left panting quietly, eyes clasped shut, brow furrowed and completely wiped.

"Hey bud," He greeted after the calm settled following the chaos and they were left in silence, still sprawled in each other's embrace, "You did good." He praised quietly as he slowly untangled himself from his brother. Sam gave him a soulful fleeting look as Dean made his way around to the side of the bench again, facing him.

He didn't say anything to the quite acclaim though, because he didn't know what he could say. It was still embarrassing as hell going through these, having to rely on his brother, to let him take care of him as he succumbed to pain. So he said nothing.

"You ready to go back?" Dean asked interrupting his degrading thoughts and Sam snapped his head up to catch Dean's questioning gaze. Sam nodded but just before they pulled back onto the road, grabbed Dean's forearm.

"Dean," He started gently, a little unsteady, "I – thanks. You don't know…how hard this all would be without you." He admitted feeling too grateful for his brother's presence to drive away from this place without saying anything. He'd feel too guilty, spoiled maybe. So he got the awkward thanks out of the way and kept his gaze hidden the whole time.

Dean's eyes narrowed, brow following as he studied Sam, wondering where the suddenly spoken gratitude was coming from. He didn't do anything really, Sam was the one doing all the heavy lifting in the situation. Dean should be thanking him.

But he just shook his head and said, "Don't mention it Sammy," brushing it off as he pulled onto the road, "ready for lunch?" He asked returning to his voyage, intending to make it all the way home this time.

Sam nodded and turned to the brush rushing by as they raced down the back roads, thinking how false that agreement had been. They were off to Bobby's again, where he'd inevitably have to face the two men he'd exploded on, bitching about things they had no control over. He was shamefaced, sad and didn't really feel like talking to the doc about whatever it was he wanted to 'check on' with him either.

But he'd suck it up no doubt and deal with whatever came, he'd tell the doc whatever he needed to know and he'd get through this. Because Dean would be there, he wouldn't leave him, no matter how fucked up crazy it got. So he'd return the favor, stick around and tough it out until whatever inevitable end waited for him. Because that was all he could do. And eventually, he'd come to terms with that. He had to.

_**Feedback is just too great. Nuggets of wonderful muse-inspiring gold. So go ahead and do it. A penny for your thoughts. Was it awful? I'm honestly curious cause I wouldn't know. Haven't read it yet. Ha, yeah seriously. Pathetic.**_


	8. Intruder Alert

Bobby was quick to start yelling as soon as Sam and Dean made it home, over an hour late.

"What the hell you boys thinkin'?" Bobby said as soon as he heard the door swing open and slam shut, "We about went out searchin' for your asses, don't pick up the phone, take two and a half hours to pick up a damn meal!" He growled, ranting on before he rounded the corner and saw Sam and Dean hobbling through the doorway, promptly shutting him up. Sam was leaning heavily on his older brother but whether in pain or exhaustion Bobby couldn't tell. Frankly he didn't care as he immediately stopped hounding their asses and rushed to help.

"It happened again." Dean muttered gravely, "So I'm sorry but we were a little preoccupied."

Bobby's only response was wrapping Sam's free arm over his shoulders and helping Dean get him up to their room. The stairs were difficult, seemed Sam had really had it taken out of him this time and his feet kept tripping and clipping the lips of each ledge almost taking both men down with him.

"Alright Sammy, hang in there were almost done." Dean whispered quietly to his mostly asleep brother as they made the last step.

Sam was lowered gently onto the bed, barely supporting his own head Dean noticed as he had to slip his hand into the unruly mop of hair from behind to keep his head from lolling around until he was settled securely into the mattress.

"Jesus, he's basically unconscious." Bobby breathed from exertion, glancing at Dean for answers.

"He didn't seem too bad after it happened. We we're driving home and he just fell asleep. It wasn't like he passed out, but he went out pretty quick. Then I tried to wake him up when we got here and he just…really didn't want to. Not like he couldn't, but man he's wiped." Dean said studying the sleeping form on the bed. He shook his head at Sam, worried and confused and so far out of his element his head spun, but he re-focused himself and turned to Bobby, "Why don't you let me get him changed and in bed, I'll meet you downstairs." He said softly looking at the expression in the old man's eyes that he was sure mirrored his own. Sad, scared, lost.

Bobby gave a curt nod and Dean listened as the footsteps descended and disappeared onto ground level.

"Alright buddy," Dean muttered unbuttoning Sam's jeans, "Let's get you ready for bed…" Dean's eye caught the clock, "At three in the afternoon." He shook his head wondering how long Sam would be out this time.

He carried on untying Sam's shoes, slipping the socks off, tugging the jeans down and off and eventually working the comforter out from under his deadweight to drape it over him. The sheets pulled Sam's t-shirt up and Dean caught a glimpse of the white bandage still taped over his brother's belly.

Dean debated a moment, doing the math quickly to figure out the last time the cut had been cleaned. He thought maybe a full twenty four hours, so he decided Sam was far gone enough that he could get it done without waking him.

He quickly grabbed the first aid kit and got out the antibacterial ointment, then peeled back the bandage to reveal a slightly puffy, reddened cut, swelling around the stitches. Dean didn't like the sight at all, it didn't look entirely infected yet, but it would get there soon if they didn't do something now.

Dean made quick work of sterilizing his hands and rubbing the cream over the irritated gash. Sam stirred, face scrunching up in obvious discomfort before his eyes slid open into slits.

"Dean?" He asked clearly not quite awake, "Ow. What the…hell are you doing?"

"Sam has this been bothering you?" Dean asked ignoring the question for now, "It looks like it's getting infected man." He reproved giving him what he tried to make look like a disapproved glare. He was sure it didn't come off as anything close.

Sam looked down at the wound in question, "If it was I didn't notice it. I haven't been taking...the best care of it though." He slurred with slipshod, falling pliant into the bed again, "Had other things on my mind." He mumbled practically drunk in his sleep-induced delirium.

"Dean?" He whispered minutes later as Dean was almost finished bandaging him up again, "I'm pregnant." He said with that innocent, high-pitched tone that suggested he'd just now realized the fact. The words stopped Dean's hands frozen, hovering in position over Sam's stomach, "With more than one kid." He said incredulously, eyes still closed but brow furrowed as his voice just got higher like this was all news to him, "And…and they're yours." He said helplessly, voice dropping low like it was a secret he couldn't quite admit to.

Dean heart split and splintered hearing the drunken confession slip from his brother's tongue. God he wished to hell he hadn't said it; admitting the facts out loud, for the first time, like this no less...he might've well have had a bucket of ice cold water dumped into his face, waking him up to reality. For the hundredth time. Because Dean had done his best to come to terms with the basics of this pregnancy, or at least with the fact the Sam _was _pregnant, but the one part he didn't think he ever could accept was _him_ being responsible for it. And hearing Sam say it, he wanted to die.

"Sammy we don't know anything for sure yet." He tried, voice breaking as he stupidly grasped at straws, fully aware of how weak his words sounded: how obvious it was to see he didn't believe them for a second.

Even though more than anything he wanted to. He wanted to reassure his brother over and over that there was no way, no fucking way those kids were his. Because he couldn't be responsible for this – not _this_. Putting his brother through so much pain, and who knew how much more to come. They were only a mere week and half into this. He couldn't see the hurt and fear in his brother's eyes for the next _nine_ months knowing it was because of him.

"We do Dean." Sam said wrenching Dean from his gruesome, self-deprecating thoughts, "I know what they did to you. There's only one reason they would and you know it." He breathed, his head tossing feebly on the pillow, eyes still clamped shut.

Dean instinctively ran a trembling hand through Sam's hair trying to quell his unease.

"It'll be okay Sam." He said just above a breath looking at his brother's quickly relaxing form. He was tired of saying those words, he wanted to believe them. He suppressed a tired sigh and leaned forward pushing a lingering kiss to Sam's forehead, feeling the worried creases fade under his lips.

Then Sam was asleep and Dean was backing out of the room to head down the stairs, trying to pull together his hay-wire emotions before greeting the two other members of the house.

Or three.

As soon as Dean made it to the living room he was greeted with a face he didn't recognize, a female face, sitting on the couch with Meyer. Bobby was on the single chair nursing a beer before he shot up to Dean's sudden presence in the room.

"Hey son, didn't hear you come in." He said looking at Dean's questioning gaze and following it to the girl on the couch, "Right. Dean this is Rebecca, Meyer's girl. She brought most of the equipment we'll be needin' down from their place. Becca this is Dean." Bobby said gesturing with the neck of his beer bottle between the two.

Dean wouldn't lie, the girl was attractive. Long blonde hair, slanted grey eyes, big pink lips topped off with the typical girl-next-door blush. And as much as he wanted to saunter over and flash her his most seductive grin, she was a girl, and she was an outsider, and Sam had made it clear he hadn't wanted her around.

"Bobby can I talk to you a second?" He asked ignoring the formal introductions and simply sending Rebecca a brief, painfully fake smile as he retreated from the room. He heard Bobby mumble a muffled apology before excusing himself and following.

"Boy what has gotten into you?" Bobby asked ready to smack Dean upside the head once they made into the kitchen, "Ya ever heard 'a manners kid? I know you weren't raised by cavemen."

"Bobby I thought she was dropping off whatever he needed and leaving. You know Sam doesn't want her here. If he wakes up and sees her hanging out in the living room, _drinking_, just hangin' out he's gonna flip. He's gonna think we don't listen to him or don't care about what he wants, it'll get ugly quick. He's already feelin' like he has no privacy, if he thinks she knows…hell I don't wanna think about it. Now I don't mean to be rude, but Sam won't stay asleep forever."

"Dean calm down kid, she'll get out of here before he wakes up. But stop acting like such an ass and _thank _her for her help." This time Bobby did slap him on the back of his head, gently but still. It put Dean back in line and after he shot Bobby a proper-response glare he nodded, cooling off as they went back out to the living room.

Dean took an awkward seat down on the solitary love couch across from Rebecca and Meyer, "Uh, it's nice to meet you." He said as an offer of apology, "Thanks for bringing down the stuff." He muttered following Bobby's request as a little flush crept up his neck.

"Yeah no problem," She offered breaking the awful spell of following silence with a warm smile and little wave of her hand.

Dean nodded just as his stomach growled, rumbling like thunder through the settling quiet.

"Oh damn." He said hopping up from his seat quickly, "Lunch." He raced out to the impala hoping the chicken was still okay and grabbed the bags from the back, bringing them back in. "You all eat yet?" He asked once he was passing through the living room again, "Sorry we were a little late with the delivery."

"Nah we waited for you two." Meyer said leading the way to the kitchen as Bobby and Rebecca followed.

"Well good, we've got some chicken and salad. Help yourself, I'm makin' my own." He said absentmindedly as he pulled out a pot and filled it with water to boil on the stove.

"Sponge Bob?" Bobby asked curiously, raising a brow as he spotted the boxes of macaroni sitting next to the pot on the counter.

Dean took a second to figure out what he was talking about but laughed once he did, "You know it." He said around a smirk, "They taste better." Bobby just shook his head choosing not to acknowledge that ridiculous statement and joined Meyer and Rebecca at the table, digging in as soon as he was seated.

It didn't take long for conversation to start at the table. It was right around the time Dean deemed the water boiling enough to pour the noodles in...and he almost slipped and missed the pot when he heard what was said.

"So I never really did get the full scoop. Why exactly was I asked to haul basically your whole office's worth of equipment down here?" Rebecca said giving a pointed look to her father just as he was about to shovel a fork-full of salad into his mouth. Dean turned around to watch them through the two open doors of the kitchen, giving himself a clear view of the dining room table.

"Sam's sick." Meyer proffered shortly, dropping his fork back to the table, "We don't want to move him and he doesn't want a hospital." He said, eye brows shooting up to give his daughter what looked a lot like a 'drop-it-that's-all-you're-getting' kind of look. It worked pretty magically, she let it go.

Dean sighed a breath of relief turning back to his original task, surprised to find he liked Meyer that much more after hearing him stick up to his own daughter for their secret.

"Well at any rate I'm sorry it took me so long. The drive is basically half way across the country, and packing up wasn't all that easy. I think I'm gonna have to stay overnight and head out early tomorrow if I'm gonna make it in just one or two goes this time." Dean froze over his pasta, spoon stopping its swirling motion as his whole body when rigid. She couldn't really think she was staying here right?

"Of course, we'll get you set up in a nice hotel for the night." Bobby said politely with a gruff smile as he patted her hand.

"Oh…well, of course. Yeah." She said nodding, brow creased subtly as she tried to fumble for a response. Her face flushed red as she looked back down to her nearly empty plate, dejected and confused. Dean almost ran over to apologize and beg her to stay the night here, looking at that expression.

_Whoa, pull yourself together man._

He berated, wondering at the impulse reaction. But then he looked at her again, and the urge to console was back. She looked so innocently puzzled, discarded - like Sam did with his puppy eyes. His guilt almost choked him as he watched this girl wonder why she was being kicked out by people she'd schlepped supplies half way across the country for. People she didn't even know, not to mention her father who wasn't making any move to invite her to stay either.

_Wow we're _ass_holes. _

"No Rebecca stay here for the night. We've got room. Least we can do." He blurted out before he could stop himself or register the offer he'd just made. Bobby shot him an incensed and utterly baffled glance that Rebecca, thankfully didn't catch.

"Really? You sure, I don't wanna impose." She said politely with a timid smile, looking at Dean like he was something of a hero.

He took a moment, unintentionally holding his breath as he realized how much shit he'd just stepped in and nodded quickly laughing out his breath with a shrug.

"Thank you. You won't even know I'm here." She smiled a little more surely showing off her bright white teeth and honest gratitude. All he could do was nod jerkily again before turning his back on them.

"_Fuck_." He mumbled under his breath shutting the stove off aggressively. He needed to talk to Sam now.

He fixed up the macaroni in record time, cut some hotdogs into it just as he knew Sam liked and rushed upstairs with two bowls, dodging Bobby on his way up. He'd talk to him after.

It'd been about two and a half hours that Sam had been sleeping, so Dean didn't feel too horribly awful waking him. And he had every intention of doing just that as he walked into the room, but was stopped for a moment when he heard quiet moans coming from the bed. Nightmare?

Dean rushed to his brother's side setting the food down on the nightstand roughly and got a good look at Sam's state before deciding whether he should jostle him or not. He decided not pretty quickly, noticing his brother didn't look distressed. Not at all actually.

Sam's mouth was hanging open, his brow softly lined as his hips rocked almost imperceptibly under the covers, little gasps and groans escaping him, coming more frequently as the seconds flew by.

This wasn't a nightmare. It was a sex dream.

Oh holy shit.

Dean should be waking him up now. Or running from the room. Either would've been a hell of a lot more appropriate then what he was doing. Which was staring.

Studying every detail of Sam's blissed out face, watching his slim hips rut up into the air – the low V of muscle flexing and straining with every small thrust – watching his hands fist in the mattress, and wishing he was the cause of all that pleasure.

_Wait what_?

Dean's mind screamed at him even as his dick hardened in his jeans, pushing against the rough fabric, begging to be let out.

Before he knew what was happening his hand was back out in the air, hovering over Sam, almost as if to wake him. But that's not what happened. His calloused palm came down against Sam's ruddy cheek as his thumb moved over his mouth, feeling the hot breaths of air puff out and moisten his skin. He rubbed the digit over the crest of Sam's bottom lip and watched in fascination as a pink tongue slid out to follow the trail.

God he wanted to be submerged in that liquid heat, feel it swallowing him down-

Suddenly Sam's moans were flowing one after another, his hips grinding faster into the air until his body pulled taut and stilled and he was coming; Dean would've known just by looking at his face. Complete and utter bliss, and God it made him harder just seeing it.

Oh fuck. His brother had just had a wet fucking dream and he'd stayed to watch.

Dean hopped up quicker than he thought possible before darting into the bathroom conjoined to their bedroom and shutting the door behind him, hoping the click wouldn't wake Sam. He avoided the mirror at all costs as he slid down the wall to sit on his ass, completely in shock. Bathrooms seemed the place to be when every spec of normalcy was falling to shreds. It'd been his solace a couple times now…but this, not even a bathroom breakdown could fix _this_.

What was wrong with him? Some chemical imbalance or something. Had to be, maybe he should get checked out by Meyer, what if he was sick? What if this was a side effect to some disease?

What? No. Of course not, that's ridiculous. This was all Dean, it was his fucked up perversions, he couldn't blame it on some disease, or anything else for that matter. God how was he ever gonna look at Sam again.

"Dean?" He heard his name called from the other side of the door, "You in there?" Sam asked.

Dean hefted himself up from the cold tile and opened the door. Sam was still in bed, groggy, hair sticking out everywhere, fists rubbing his eyes: he looked all of twelve years old.

"Yeah, sorry did I wake you?' He asked going for casual as he B-lined for the dresser so his back was to Sam, knowing he would want him turned when he got out of bed. As expected he heard Sam jumping from the sheets and into the bathroom before he answered,

"No, I had this wild ass dream." He said as Dean stiffened. He almost answered with the standard 'clowns or midgets' before he realized he couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. But then the door closed and it didn't matter because the shower turned on and no answer was needed.

The wash was quick and before Dean even realized time had been passing Sam was out with a towel slung low around his hips, white bandage gone, cut visible as he prodded the skin around it.

"We're we talking about this maybe getting infected earlier?" Sam asked as he took a seat on the bed, Dean still hadn't moved away from the dresser. But Sam's voice snapped him out of his daze and flipped him back into motion again as he shook his head forcefully.

"Uh, yeah. You were pretty out of it."

Sam nodded still probably concentrating on remember all he'd said. Dean was moving to grab the first aid kit when Sam seemed to recall the whole conversation.

"Oh." He said halfway surprised but quickly turning sheepish, "I really was. I'm sorry for everything I said, Dean."

"You remember that?" Dean asked sitting by his brother with the kit in his hands. Sam nodded looking away, "It's no big deal Sammy. You didn't say anything I didn't already know." He reminded gently, glad they were focusing on something that could push away the insanely wrong feelings he'd been freaking out over the past hour.

Sam didn't say anything but just kept looking at his hands silently as he nodded again. Dean sighed,

"Lay back for me kid." He said quietly, grabbing the ointment for his cut and a fresh bandage from the kit. Sam looked up, surprised for a moment before he caught on and followed the order.

Sam's legs fell apart at the knees as he laid back, pulling the seam of the towel apart a little. Dean could see up the inside of his tan thighs shaped by hardened muscle, scattered with course golden hair. He jerked his head away and refocused on opening the tube of cream after cleaning his hands.

He spread a glob over two gloved fingers and as gently as he could, rubbed the cream around the cut. Sam hissed quickly but stayed still, Dean winced with the sound. "Sorry Sammy." He apologized under his breath, "It didn't bother you too bad before, it's hurtin' worse?" He asked continuing to spread the ointment.

"It's a little sore," Sam downplayed keeping his eyes concentrated on the ceiling.

"We should get you started on antibiotics." He said taping down the gauze when he was finished, "I'll get Meyer," Dean said as he got to his feet suddenly remembering the reason he'd come up here in the first place, "Uh, I brought you up some lunch. Or dinner really now." He added distractedly glancing at the clock, "But uh, before I go I need to tell you somethin'." He said hating how ominous the words sounded coming out.

Sam was reaching hungrily for his bowl of food before freezing with Deann admission.

"Sam eat." Dean ordered before his brother could get in a word, "You've hardly had anything all day." Sam glowered at him, refusing to until he spit it out. He didn't need to say anything for Dean to understand.

"Okay, um. You know how Meyer said his daughter was coming down to drop off his stuff?" Dean began trying to mask his nerves, Sam nodded, "She's here. And I think she's staying the night 'cause the trip was long and she needs somewhere to sleep so she can get up early and get outta here in one trip tomorrow." Dean said in a breath, wondering if all the words made sense however order they came out.

"She doesn't know does she?" Sam asked, calmer than Dean expected, "Why she brought us that equipment?"

Dean shook his head encouraged by his brother's reaction, "No, no. She just thinks you're sick and don't wanna be at a hospital or somethin'. Meyer made sure it was vague, whatever he told her. She didn't ask questions."

Sam nodded, "Kay." He replied simply and grabbed for his food ready to inhale it.

"Kay?" Dean asked before he could stop himself, Sam looked at him funny.

"What?" He said around a mouthful of macaroni, "You expect me to freak out or something?"

Dean shook his head rapidly, "No 'course not. Just wanted to make sure you're okay with it."

"Yeah." Sam said slowly, as if Dean needed help understanding the word, "She doesn't know and she's not staying for long, why would I care?"

"Well good." Dean nodded a moment later and stood trying to mask his surprise, why had he expected Sam to freak again? "I'm gonna, uh, go talk to the doc 'bout those meds." He said coolly, leaving Sam to his food. He blew out a long breath walking down the stairs and headed for the living room figuring that's where everyone would be by now.

He ran into a very angered Bobby on his way though and quickly had to explain that Sam was fine before he was allowed to go anywhere. Finally he got to Meyer and discussed what they should do about the possibly infected cut. The doc asked Rebecca to grab his case of antibiotics – the pills not the fluids for an IV, it wasn't that bad yet – and Dean ran the orange tube of horse pills up to Sam.

"Here bro, Meyer wants you to start taking two a day. With food, so take one now." He instructed Sam, who was now holding an empty bowl up to him, and exchanged the glass of water and meds for it. "Yeah I'll take care of this," he said holding up the empty dish, "Don't you strain yourself." He said giving him a sarcastic smile, Sam smiled back almost happily and swished down the pill.

"Thanks man."

"Yeah," Dean said more sincerely, grabbing his own bowl of untouched food on the nightstand and heading toward the door, "You feel like comin' down?" He asked as he kicked it open.

"Yeah, be there in a sec." Sam said gesturing to his boxers and undershirt. Dean gave a nod and left, happy that Sam seemed more…well, like Sam. There was less of that 'I'm-done' defeat in his eyes and more 'maybe-things-_could_-be-okay' hope.

Dean went to the living room where everyone was gathered, nursing beers again. Sam joined them shortly after, looking fresher and happier than Dean had seen him in a while. He couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face watching Sam interact with company so easily, smiling and even laughing with everyone a couple times. He looked genuinely content sitting around with the group, conversing as if nothing abnormal was happening in their lives at all. Dean just hoped it wasn't an act to ease their new guest and wouldn't disappear the second Rebecca did.

Around ten Sam was almost asleep on his feet again. He flashed a tired smile at Rebecca as he gave her his thanks and offered a goodnight to the room before trudging upstairs.

"Is it normal for him to be so tired all the time? He slept all day." He told Meyer when he got a chance with him alone. Rebecca had followed after Sam up to bed and Bobby was cleaning the kitchen.

"Probably." Meyer said looking at the stairs where his daughter and Sam had disappeared moments before, "First trimesters…people are usually excessively tired, light-headed, dizzy at times. And with that episode today I'm sure his body's still worn out. It's nothing to worry about. But tomorrow I do need to finally have that talk with Sam. I've been meaning to check with him since he told me about the procedure, there was just never a good time. Though if he isn't coming to me about any abnormal pains I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." He added more to himself than Dean, "I'll let him be for tonight." He said with a smile.

Dean wanted to question what exactly Meyer was checking up on again, but remembering how it went last time he let it go. "Kay thanks doc. He's wiped out. And he seemed happier tonight, I don't wanna ruin that." He said turning toward the staircase.

Meyer nodded, "I think so too. Good night Dean."

"Night doc."

Sam was changing into his pajamas when Dean walked in; he was pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor just Dean shut the door behind him. He couldn't help but get caught up in the swift movement of muscle under unblemished, tan skin as he moved. If only for just a moment. Then he was regaining his sanity and rapidly shaking away the thoughts as he stripped off his own jeans, hopping into his bed.

"Hey Sammy?" He asked as Sam climbed under his covers with exaggerated lethargy.

"Yeah?"

"I…I really liked seein' you smile again tonight." He said quietly, turning off the light, "G'night bro."

Dean couldn't see it, but Sam was currently sporting the biggest smile of the night after hearing those whispered words of rare affection, "Yeah Dean. It was a good night. See you in the morning big brother."

The boys fell asleep quicker that night than any other that week and made it through the unconscious hours without any interruption.

Rebecca left the next morning and after all Dean's turmoil, had ended up being no trouble at all. Dean was almost embarrassed thinking it had been any big deal.

Meyer peeked in on Sam the following afternoon and asked to talk with him alone again, effectively kicking Dean out of the room. He left them with a heated glare and quick explanation that the room was in fact half his before shaking his head and slamming the door behind him. He was promptly ignored.

Apparently all the fussing for a check-up had been because Meyer wanted to know about any pain Sam was experiencing going to the bathroom, but hardly had the chance to get out his question before Sam interrupted with a shocked 'what?' and, 'why the hell would you wanna know that?' with horror plastered on his face.

Meyer was quick to explain he was checking for any tearing in the tissue from the doctor's previous procedure. Sam turned beat red and was told repeatedly not to downplay any discomfort or pain at all, so he begrudgingly answered with the truth and said that 'he'd had multiple various instrument shoved up him, of course he was a little sore,' with the expected hostile tone to cover up his embarrassment.

Meyer simply nodded calmly and quietly asked if he'd seen any blood. Sam flushed red again, but thankfully could answer that one with an affirmative, loud 'no' and keep his eyes glued to his hands the whole time.

The doc seemed satisfied after that and gave Sam a quick apology, explaining that if there had been tears, they could get infected and he wouldn't be able to fight that off right now.

Sam did his best to accept that apology and explanation, knowing the man was just trying to help him, but damn Sam had been thankful when he was gone and done with the intensely awkward questionnaire. Meyer didn't bother him the rest of the day.

The next three weeks flew by. Sam's cut healed without infection and the stitches were removed just as his episodes began to dwindle. Their intensity lessened as their frequency did and Meyer deemed his body 'adjusting,' finally beginning to accept the new additions. Bobby had wanted to celebrate Sam's redeeming health that night, the night that just so happened to mark the three week anniversary of the pregnancy. Nobody was sure how they felt about the coincidence, but continued on with the subtle celebration anyway.

Bobby made lasagna from scratch at Sam's request and the four of them sat around the dining room table, talking with smiles of nothing important, all slowly becoming accustomed to the insane situation. Slowly accepting it as Sam was.

Another two weeks passed and Sam's morning sickness started. Dean found him the first morning it began, hunched in front of the toilet, shirtless and hurling up his gut as he coughed and hacked up a lung, knee-jerk tears of pure exertion running down his cheeks. It was an awful, heart-wrenching sight, especially for Dean and he laid a hand on the back of his neck, helping him work through the following dry heaves until he was done.

The rest of the day Sam had been bed-ridden, not even by verbal request of Meyer or physical force of Dean, just exhaustion and nausea. And Dean stayed with him the whole time. Feeding him whatever he'd accept, keeping him entertained as the hours droned by, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself as he couldn't help but stare every once in a while at his shirtless torso.

Whether on the bed, sprawled out or curled up, in front of the toilet throwing up, stuffing his face with pickle-topping pizza…it didn't seem to matter. Dean was mesmerized. Of course he kept it hidden even as it progressed over the weeks, but he couldn't ignore it. He simply did his best to take care of his little brother like a big brother should and focus on keeping the wanton desire out of his eyes.

It was a relatively uneventful five weeks that passed, considering the circumstances at least, and everyone seemed to be settling. Mentally preparing and adjusting to the situation pretty smoothly.

That was until night fell the day the morning sickness started and Sam woke up in the middle of the night with a racing heart, wondering at first why he was awake. He immediately looked around the room for a potential threat, hunter that he was, but when he shifted, he was startled to find he was sitting in a puddle of liquid warmth.

He yanked back the covers and looked around with wide eyes to see a bed full of blood.


	9. Screaming in the Dark

_**And here is a bit of chapter nine. Only read over it once, ignore errors as always, no need for chapter warning except loads of angst, but seriously when do I ever need to forewarn that. Please let me know what you think, this chapter has been difficult so far. More A/N explanation at bottom. **_

At first, Sam didn't recognize the sounds flitting through the dark room, he just knew something out there was whimpering or keening or moaning. The sounds were off, like they were coming from ground level as he sat under water. Nevertheless it sounded distressful, and he almost thought he should go help whoever sounded so scared until a very heavy weight crashed into his side and he snapped back into the sane and functioning part of his brain.

The weight had been Dean and the sounds had been _him_ and just like that he was yanked out of the water and back to the surface, finally jarred from his shock - registering his surroundings again.

There was a lot of blood in his bed; it looked like one of the many murder scenes he'd investigated before, except that he was laying in the middle of it. He was almost sure that had never happened before.

"Sam! Come on look at me Sammy! _Meyer!_ _Bobby!_" Dean roared turning his head toward the closed door to project the enraged sound in the right direction. "Meyer get in here now!" Dean yelled again and finally Sam looked at him.

His expression was nothing but confused now that the shock had passed; what the hell was going on? Why was their blood everywhere?

And then, out of nowhere, his stomach was convulsing, cramping up like he'd never felt before, not even in his 'episodes.' This was different, something was wrong. The confusion magically dissipated, replaced by a simple _pain, pain, pain_ chant running through his head.

Dean noticed the shift as Sam fell back to the bed and curled up in a ball, "Oh, fuck Dean." He whispered just as Meyer crashed through the door literally almost braking it off its hinges.

He stopped short just long enough for Bobby to collide into him as he took in the gruesome sight, Sam was practically swimming in all that blood. Quickly though, he regained composure, doctor that he was, and moved into action.

Meyer pulled the ultrasound machine over to the bed from where it was sitting in the corner: the last place they'd left it after Sam's first monthly check up. And all the babies had looked perfectly healthy and that had been a little over a week ago. Funny how quickly things could flip.

"Hey Sam, you're gonna be okay." Meyer recited running on auto pilot as he grabbed the tube of gel and gloved his hands, "I need you to lie on your back for me."

Sam tried to comply as he slowly rolled off his side, Dean helping, his arm held tight in his fist, "Bobby, get towels." Meyer shot without turning away from Sam. He squirted the gel onto his stomach and gently began rolling the wand around, spreading the cold substance until he found his target on the screen.

And saw exactly what he hoped to hell he wouldn't.

"Doc what the hell's happening?" Dean asked, voice cracking several times in his utter anguish. Sam's face was still scrunched up in obvious pain and Dean was about to start swinging if someone didn't tell him right the fuck now that, at the very least, Sam wasn't dying.

Bobby rushed into the room then, carrying arms full of towels, looking uncharacteristically disheveled and panicked. And, unfortunately, he arrived just in time to hear Meyer's answer.

"Sam's miscarrying." He said, voice tight and controlled as he swiped off the gel from Sam's stomach and pushed the machine away. The towels fell to the floor.

"What?" Sam finally spoke up doing his best to lift his head and look at Meyer to confirm he'd just heard what he knew he did. His face was horrified.

Dean was stunned, he didn't know what that meant. Except that obviously Sam was losing a baby, or two or three. But what he wanted to know was what it meant for _Sam_. He couldn't worry about the rest yet.

"One of the fetuses wasn't getting enough nutrients," Meyer said, walking to retrieve the towels from the floor, "IUGR is what it's called, I should've caught it earlier. Though there's very little that can be done to stop it." Meyer elaborated to the stunned, and partially dismayed group around him, "Sam's body is trying to pass the remains now."

Meyer took his position by Sam again, Dean still on the bed cradling his distraught brother and Bobby still by the door, looking utterly lost. How should he feel? Was this good or bad? By the looks of Sam it didn't seem good at all, but then this whole time both boys had been adamant about not wanting these babies…

Sam collapsed back on the bed resuming his position curled up on his side, nobody could see the damp moisture leaking from the corner of his eyes and into the pillow. The soft glow of the moon wasn't providing enough to see, and for some unspoken reason no one had turned on the lights.

"Isn't there something you can do?" Dean asked moving closer to Sam's hunched back and resting a hand on his shoulder, "It's gonna be okay Sammy." He said, voice dropping low.

Sam fought the urge to simply forget their audience and the gentle soothing tone of Dean's voice and _lash_ out at those words, because how in the fuck would it be okay when he was losing one of the babies?

But he didn't. Instead he curled in tighter on himself and stifled a broken sob in his chest, holding on to his last shreds of dignity as every pair of eyes inspected him, waiting for some clue as to how he was taking the news. How they should be taking the news.

"No," Meyer said softly, "The baby's already dead, there's no way to-"

"No I know that," Dean interrupted, not angrily but maybe, disappointed? "I mean for Sam, he's in pain."

"Oh, right." Meyer sighed, "I'm afraid not though, the only pain medication I have is far too strong and could risk his and the fetuses' health. I have advil, but it could increase the blood flow." He said just as he took one of the towels purposefully in his hand and glanced at Bobby, then at Sam, wondering if the boy would want some privacy. Bobby got the hint, slipped quietly from the room, and once he was out of ear shot, was praying pleas out loud that his boy would be alright.

"Okay Sam," Meyer began calmly once the door was shut, "I'd like to get you into the tub if that's alright."

_I'm not a fucking child._

Sam snarled at the man but chose not to voice any protest as he currently had tears running down his temple and didn't feel much like fighting back anyway. It would only be a completely transparent attempt to mask the overwhelming grief that was currently, slowly settling in. So he kept his mouth shut and did his best to push himself upright, once again Dean helping his every move, as he shifted uncomfortably over to the bathroom. Meyer was a step ahead of them and already running the tub once they entered.

"Sam you can just sit in here for a while, wait for the blood to slow a little," He looked over to Dean, "You can just keep draining the water and freshening it," He added assuming the brother's would want to stay together, before turning his next words back to Sam, "You might see some liver-like pieces come out, its normal so don't worry." Meyer said standing from the edge of the tub. But the advised 'don't worry' had an opposite effect on the youngest Winchester as Sam was quickly becoming livid at the callous and uncaring tone of his doctor's voice. As if 'liver-like pieces' of his _dead_ child leaving him was perfectly alright.

Right away Sam started berating himself for angry feelings though. He knew everyone's cool reactions were his own fault; he'd made it too apparent that he didn't want these babies when really, over the past few weeks, his ostensibly innate paternal instincts had livened. He'd started accepting these babies and caring for them - feeling the need to protect them.

Quickly his thoughts were stolen away though as another seizing-like cramp shot low through his belly and shut everything else out. He arched over, cradling his tightened muscles and Dean immediately reached for his back to steady him, sitting him down on the toilet. Meyer joined him, "The contraction like pains shouldn't last too long, once everything passes they should stop. But Sam," He said making sure he had his attention as he noticed the cramp fading, Sam looked up at him with slight exasperation and fear, "You need to make sure you come and get me if the pain becomes too intense or if the bleeding suddenly increases. I don't know how the stitches inside are doing, they should hold up fine but just as a forewarning I want you to watch out for it." He shot both the boys stern glances to make sure they understood before straightening up again, "Alright, I'll leave you two then." He said more tenderly, his gaze softening with his tone as he looked at Sam and noticed the underlying currents of sorrow emanating from the boy.

He left in a hurry after that, eager to talk to his friend about the possibility of Sam starting to care for these babies.

"Sammy let's get you in the tub huh?" Dean asked once Meyer had gone. Sam stood on shaky legs trying to harden his gaze and make it less obvious he'd been crying. The last thing he needed was some pity party or a mother henning Dean. He just wanted to deal with this alone.

But not all that surprisingly, it didn't mean he wanted Dean to leave. He needed his presence, that comforting, anchoring force in the background to help ground him while he 'dealt.' So he let Dean help him out of his night shirt and blood-soaked boxers before climbing into the steaming tub. He couldn't even bring himself to feel embarrassed pregnant and naked in front of his brother, his brain was too overload and overwhelmed to process discomfiture and like he said, he needed Dean right now.

"How you feelin' Sammy?" Dean asked trying not watch as the blood started turning the water pink; he let up the drain and turned the water on again decided he'd keep the flow going until the bleeding stopped.

Sam didn't answer, his gaze was intently fixed and focused on his belly, fingers tracing the faint scar the incision had left him and mind going crazy with a million different agonized thoughts. Mostly of regret.

He should've cared for them more, he should've loved them. He should've eaten better and listened when his body needed to rest.

If he would've just opened his blind eyes sooner he would've seen this for what it was, or at least what it could've been had he given it a chance, which was a miracle.

No, it didn't happen the way he expected or wanted, and no it wasn't planned or desired at the time, but that didn't change the fact that these were his _children_. Little pieces of him and Dean, living and growing inside him. They were incredible lives to be treasured.

And it only took the death of one for him to realize it.

"Hey man you okay?" Dean asked, stirring Sam from his head as he noticed the small droplets that'd started to leak down his brother's cheeks while he was lost in his inner turmoil. Sam looked up at him with wide eyes, barely noticing as another wave of contracting pain struck through his lower abdomen, focusing on Dean's concern instead.

"What is it Sammy? Does it hurt?" He asked instinctively reaching over to lay his hand on his brother's still flat stomach, ignoring how close the touch put him to his groin. Sam seemed to relax under the contact but then shook his head refusing to answer with words again as he leaned back against the tub.

"No don't give me more of that silent treatment crap, talk to me Sammy. I can't help you if you don't." Dean said gently pushing a tear off Sam's cheek with his free hand.

They were quiet for a long time, Dean holding out for an answer, Sam wondering what he should say. Finally, the silence broke.

"Dean?" Sam rasped, voice quaky and quiet, "Is it wrong that I feel…" Sam seemed to lose his nerve for a moment huffing a shaky breath and averting his glassy eyes. Eventually he found his voice again, and Dean waited patiently, "I feel…sad." He whispered, voice cracking on the last word as his tear-chocked throat constricted, finally looking up at Dean with wide, watering, shameful eyes. He looked so uncharacteristically small, and utterly heartbroken.

Dean looked back, struck into silence for a moment, watching Sam anticipate his answer, seeming to think it would be some outburst of 'YES, of course it's wrong!' or at least a confused 'What?' or a retort of some kind. But Dean didn't voice any of that. He didn't feel it.

He understood.

"No, Sammy." He whispered and acting on pure instinct again, cradled Sam's head to his chest, feeling the water from the tub soak into his shirt, "No."

And with those quiet words of empathetic understanding, Sam came to terms with his grief and let it go with deep, guttural sobs of loss.

Their baby was dead.

"Dean I'm – I'm so sorry." He breathed after coughing a weak, tortured sob. Apologizing for so many different things.

"Sam don't. You've got nothing to be sorry for, this isn't your fault." He whispered into his dark, dripping locks, pressing chaste kisses in between his words. Sam just clutched tighter to his older brother and continued to let the guilt and the overwhelming heartache take over.

He couldn't stop seeing beautiful, tormenting images of a baby girl: bright green, wide curious eyes framed in long black lashes, blinking up at him as they took in the world. He couldn't help but imagine her pink flushed cheeks and button nose, her impossibly tiny fingers struggling to wrap around just one of his own. He kept seeing flashes of her growing up; her long curly sun-bleached hair whipping around as she raced through their backyard, playing with her siblings and laughing, growing, learning. So innocent, so helpless and small, _dependent_ on him.

And then gone, before she ever got a chance to live.

Sam didn't know why, but he felt he knew he'd just lost their daughter. And the implausible, but what he felt was certain, realization made the situation glaringly real. And horrifyingly tragic.

"Dean." Sam sobbed into his brother's shoulder, clutching to him like the life line he knew he was.

"Shh Sammy, calm down," Dean cooed to his hysterical brother, brushing fingers through the long strands of wet hair, "We're gonna get through this Sam. You hear me?" Dean asked gently, pulling Sam away to look into his tear-streaked face, "We're gonna be okay. All four of us." He promised rubbing fingers soothingly over the cramping muscles of Sam's stomach, hoping to God he could salvage what was left of his family.

Sam cried harder, crashing into Dean's chest again.

They stayed just like that for a time neither comprehended: Dean's eyes dripping solitary tears; Sam's eyes growing swollen and dry; Dean's arm's cramping around his shaking brother; Sam drawing all the comfort he could from the embrace.

It seemed to have become somewhat of a routine for them.

_**Well, I've never done this before, but since I'm taking such a horribly long time with this awfully difficult chapter, I've split it in two. This is what I have that's completed so far, and it is part one of chapter 9. I'll begin on part two right now, and hopefully some reviews will make the process just a wee bit quicker. Love you all, thanks for being patient and sticking with me. **_


	10. And the Angels Sang

_**I'm sorry. There, apology out of the way. Tell me your thoughts as always, cause Lord knows I need every last spec of inspiration and encouragement, or maybe threat and blackmail, as I can get to keep the story going.**_

_**Sorry for mistakes as always. Chap Warning: wincest.**_

_**Rest of A/N you can look forward to!**_

Dean stayed wrapped around Sam for the majority of the night left, only separating once he felt Sam had been in the tub long enough. He rinsed him off with the shower head and helped him out; he dried him off and watched the endless stream of silent tears drop from his chin and run down his chest, then he dried those too.

But after they were back in bed – his bed, the other's sheets thankfully removed – Dean's arms went right back around his devastated brother and stayed, locked securely across his chest. Dean felt the strong shoulders pressed against his back shake in his embrace as salty drops soaked into his shirt; he tried to hold Sam together as he fell apart and was forced to let time shove in the new reality, dragging the desolation in suit.

Now that he knew Sam would physically be okay, he was left to deal with the emotional aftermath. The utter devastation. He didn't understand how this could be hitting him so hard when up until today, he had felt nothing for the _things_ growing in Sam – because they could've hurt him - but it definitely was. The realization that his child had just died…it was steadily ripping him to pieces. He was torn between staying strong for Sam and breaking down himself.

_Their_ baby was dead.

It was a few tireless tear-filled hours that passed before anyone said a word. Meyer and Bobby's footsteps could be heard in the hall every so often as they subtly checked on the two, but the door never opened; they always left quickly after hearing the quiet sobs on the other side. Dean changed the towel tucked between Sam's legs a couple times, hating any minute spent out of his brother's arms but going anyway in favor of Sam's comfort, reassured to find the blood had lessened each time he checked and now the boys were settled again, tucked under Dean's sheets and back in each other's arms. Sam's breath was fanning out onto Dean's chest, his eyes puffy but dry for the first time in hours when finally, he spoke.

"I should've taken better care of myself." He whispered ashamedly, breathing quietly through his open mouth as his nose was entirely plugged now, "She was your baby too, I was so selfish." He finished trying to burrow further into his brother, but Dean had other ideas.

"Sam, listen to me." He began sternly, lifting Sam from his chest and turning him so he could meet his eye, "This is not your fault. It was out of our control." He emphasized, "And besides we knew from the very beginning there was a chance that this could happen, no matter what anyone did. You understand?" Sam looked confused.

"What do you mean you knew there was a chance of this from the beginning?" Sam asked, squinting through his wet lashes in uncertainty. He didn't remember hearing that, not that he had cared to listen to much in the beginning. Just another sterling example of his incredible self-absorption.

"Meyer said so, you were asleep. It was in the motel room, just before we left to come to Bobby's. He said that your body wasn't fit to handle carrying one child let alone three, so there was a chance not all of them would survive." He explained gravely, looking hard into Sam's eye, "You have to understand, it wouldn't have mattered what you'd done. Nothing could've stopped this from happening."

Sam considered the new information, wondering if it actually made any difference to his current self-loathing. Because there were still things he could've done to take better care of them. Of himself. There's always something, he just hadn't cared enough to find it. To stop this. He could've saved her.

Dean's voice pulled him from his head again, "Besides, as hard as it is to face, dwelling on this won't make any difference. We can grieve, it's a tragedy and it's gonna take time to deal with, I know that. But we have two other babies in here," Dean whispered laying his forehead against Sam's as his palm lay flat on his stomach, "They still need you."

Sam was a little shocked at the revelation, not that he didn't know it, but to hear it from Dean meant a lot. He nodded slowly, moving his head a fraction of an inch against his brother's and then leaned forward into Dean's chest again, trying to find his strength, to summon it from some hidden place inside. Because that he could agree with – they did need him, and right now he owed them that.

He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, if nothing but for the two remaining children completely reliant on him, the two he was determined to learn from his mistakes with.

"It's hard Dean." He admitted quietly, still trying to even his breaths and draw up some strength, "I miss her and I didn't even know her. It's like I've lost a part of myself I didn't know existed, and now there's just this hole." Sam took in a trembling breath, "I wanna be strong for them, but how, you know? When all I can think about is…" Sam's brow pulled together as he shut his eyes and shook his head, as if he could rid his mind the end of that sentence, "I don't know how to do this." He confessed slowly, "I don't know if I can."

"Sammy listen to me," Dean started with his rumbling, authoritative tone again, "I know you can_._ _We_ can do this. You're not alone in this man, remember that. 'M right here and I'm not going anywhere, alright? We're gonna make it through this. No matter how it seems now, we are."

"You think so?" He asked quietly, chancing a glance at his big brother.

"Yeah Sam." He nodded firmly, "And we're gonna do this whole thing right from here on out. No more brooding about what we can't change - I'm done focusing on trying to fix this. 'Cause, if here, right now, is teaching me anything," He said, gravelly voice rumbling through the dark as he tried to keep his breaking words steady, "it's that maybe this isn't something to be _fixed_. Maybe we should stop looking at it as a curse and start considering it for what it is." He said meaningfully, "I mean, we've got these tiny fragile human lives counting on us now, and yeah, I always imagined that, if that ever happened, it would go down a little differently - no psychos or kidnapping for a start - but still, doesn't change the fact that it is, happening." He spoke quietly, eyes sobering as they bored into Sam's, "I love you Sammy, and I'm gonna love our kids. I'm gonna start appreciating this and making sure I do everything in my power to see all of you are safe." He whispered against Sam's cheek, "We can do this Sam."

Sam's mind whirled with the words, clinging to each and every one with something he could only think to deem as hope. And then he nodded. Because his voice was gone, and his heart was a wreck and his head was still spinning; it was all he could do.

Dean pulled him into his protective hold, encircling him again and cradling his head to his chest as his other hand slipped down to its familiar position just above Sam's navel.

A sigh escaped Sam's lips as he settled into his brother and let the warmth of the hands on him seep into his damp skin, heating him from the inside out. The icy splinters in his stomach, in his heart, were melting as Dean's words kept circling through his mind and he whispered an almost inaudible 'thank you' before closing his eyes and trying to seek out a few hours of deprived sleep.

The clock read 4:56 AM when Bobby's drooping eyes flickered over from his place at the kitchen table to check. They had been up since midnight and though in the past, late unscheduled hours would've been no problem to him, he was no longer accustomed to the irregular sleeping patterns, so being woken up in the middle of the night was no longer as easy as it used to be. Especially when the added stress of wondering how in the hell Sam and Dean were going to make it through this was weighing heavily in his mind, trying to drag him under.

Because what Meyer had said was right, the boys were starting to care about these kids, Sam specifically. He could see it and had to admit, wasn't all that surprised. The boys couldn't deny family even if they tried and their children were no different, no matter how unconventional the circumstances. So them losing one of their children now, just as they were starting to adjust to the fact that they had them, was the worst possible timing and Bobby could only pray to a God he wasn't sure existed that his boys would pull through.

"You think they're alright." Meyer cut into Bobby's thoughts, approaching with a fresh mug of coffee in his hands as he took a ginger seat at the table.

"No." Bobby replied bluntly not looking up from his own cup.

Meyer huffed a drained sigh, "What do we do?" He asked half speaking to himself, simply voicing his thoughts.

Bobby shook his head, "Nothin' to do but just be there for 'em. Make sure they know they don't gotta get through it on their own. Not that we'll be much help there anyway, we don't gotta clue what they're goin' through." He shrugged helplessly, "Only got each other for that." He muttered quietly, still staring into his steaming mug, "God damnet, they don't need this right now." He hissed a moment later, "Don't they have enough shit on their plates?" Bobby rhetorically asked, rolling his head toward the ceiling; Meyer slapped a hand onto his back in support.

"They're strong kids. And I got a feeling that as long as they have each other they can last through just about anything."

Bobby nodded pulling his head back down and taking a sip of his caffeinated drink before things fell quiet again. They sat there for another hour, contemplating their best options until neither could stay awake any longer. They checked on the boys, found both tangled together asleep, and went to bed themselves.

Dean woke the next afternoon breathing up against something hot and hard and warm on his cheek, blowing the air back into his face. He stirred momentarily, trying to figure out what was going on until the night came flooding back in one crashing wave of anguish, and he sunk back into the bed with a quiet sigh. Finally though he opened his eyes, figuring it was some part of Sam that was pressed up against him, and saw a dark nipple on the spans of a wide, muscled chest staring back at him.

He blinked a few times before lifting his eyes to Sam's face, surprised to see them open and trained on the ceiling. Dean felt his hands under him and pushed to prop himself up onto his elbows, scooting up the bed.

"Morning." He whispered somberly, flipping himself over to lay against the head board.

"You slept late." Was Sam's quiet response, "It's one."

"More like you didn't sleep at all." Dean corrected, "We didn't get to bed until four or five this morning." He said, letting the hint of concern shine through his voice.

Sam lowered his head and eyes to look at his brother for a moment; Dean half expected a response but none came. Sam hefted himself upright and swung his legs over the bed, clutching his stomach protectively. Whether it was from pain or protectiveness Dean wasn't sure but his hand was on Sam's back steadying him immediately.

"I'm okay Dean." Sam assured gently, turning his head a fraction of an inch toward his shoulder to look to his brother.

Dean nodded though Sam didn't see and lifted his hand from his back, "Does your stomach still hurt?" He asked, taking his chances that the question wouldn't stir an unwanted rage or guilt-fest, serving as a reminder of the night's horrible events.

Thankfully though, or maybe not depending on the perspective, Sam was calm and simply answered a withdrawn, "No," getting up to escape to the bathroom and leaving Dean in contemplative silence. A silence he stayed in for a long time, as he rose and dressed, slipped into the hall bathroom and brushed his teeth, washed his face and attempted to scrub away the physical remnants of yesterday. Eventually he was back in his room and heard Sam shut off the shower, looking up at the door as it opened and Sam stepped out in a cloud of steam, towel slung around his hips.

Dean sighed and looked back down to the ground, wondering what to say, if anything at all.

But the silence proved too powerful to break through and won out again. So he waited and turned away while Sam dressed immodestly in the corner before falling to the bed beside him. Dean's low hanging head turned toward Sam slowly, taking in the new clean and completely stunning sight of his brother, staring up again.

Gradually, Sam began to feel the eyes watching him and moved his own head down to peer into the green orbs. He opened his mouth to voice his question, but was halted abruptly by the intensity he saw in Dean's eyes. A fire set ablaze the moss green, so full of love and empathy and worry his heart didn't know whether to break or beat faster.

Dean conveyed a lot through the passionate fix of his eyes: _it's gonna be okay, we'll do this together, I love you, _and_ I'm scared shitless._ Sam answered the wavering message with his own heavy stare: _I know, but I trust you, you won't let anything happen to us, we're all gonna be okay. _It was an unspoken communication that each understood as well as they would've spoken words.

The seconds seemed to last lifetimes as they held their silent conversation, it felt like electric currents were weaving between them; the static in the air was almost tangible and the heat of the moment just kept building and intensifying until the entire world got lost in the shadows and nothing but Sam existed anymore: something inside of Dean snapped. His inhibitions vanished and a moment later he was leaning forward, closing his eyes and slipping his bottom lip between Sam's, fitting them together like broken puzzle pieces.

Which is exactly how it felt, like putting back together a part of themselves they hadn't even known had been missing or split, they felt whole for the first time in their lives. It was as if they'd been in unknowable pain for years and were only just now experiencing relief they didn't know they needed. It felt like relaxing or breathing or seeing for the very first time and for Sam, he did care what they were doing or what it meant to the outside world, he wasn't willing to give up this feeling for anything. He worked with Dean's lips, pushing gently into the heat of the mouth before him and brought his hands up to Dean's neck, pulling closer. It was a salvation he didn't know existed.

For Dean, the kiss surprisingly wasn't the impulsive reaction to all the stirring, wanton feelings he'd been fighting the past few weeks and he didn't know what to make of that. This was something so much different and entirely better: it was a simple expression of love and loyalty and assurance. He was promising himself to Sam, giving everything he could – everything he had and he never wanted to stop. He found himself forgetting all the reasons he had been warring with himself over the month and gave into this new power, a new anchor that he knew could pull them both through anything.

A soft whispered groan dragged itself from Sam's chest as he shifted on the bed to face Dean at a better angle, giving more of himself over into the kiss. Dean accommodated the change and pushed back until Sam was flat against the bed, Dean hovering over him, moving against his body in slow steady rhythms as he would a frightened animal. Not that Sam seemed scared or ambiguous about what was happening, quite the opposite really, but Dean needed to be gentle and deliberate for his own sake. Somewhere in the corners of his mind he was aware that he'd started this, he had to make sure Sam wanted it too.

Dean pulled back as Sam let his head fall back against the bed, breathing heavily through his parted lips into the strangely aching space between them. They looked into each other again, studying the eyes looking back, trying to discern whether this was alright.

"You okay?" Dean asked breathily, holding himself above Sam on shaking arms. Sam's brow crumpled like he didn't understand the question, or maybe his answer, but he nodded anyway and his face relaxed a little.

Things fell quiet for a minute, chests heaving into each other, eyes still staring, minds spiraling, until Sam spoke.

"This is…" He shook his head searching for the fitting word, "fuck." He breathed not finding one, "It feels like I just found something I had lost or was missing or something. Shit I don't even know…what I'm saying." Sam said distractedly, focused on Dean's eyes as his brows pulled together again, "This feels like a drug. I can't think straight, but I feel kinda numb, like it doesn't hurt so bad anymore….Like I could be okay again." He huffed a quiet breath, "And it's from…_kissing_ you. My brother." He stated looking confusedly at Dean.

Dean shook his head softly and pushed himself up off of Sam, though it did little to put distance between the two because Sam followed and sat up with him. "I'm sorry Sam." Dean offered helplessly shaking his head again as he looked down to his hands, "I don't know what's wrong with me, I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry" He repeated honestly, the only consolation he could give.

"Don't be." Came the whispered reply a minute later as Sam's hands trailed smoothly up his back and to his neck, turning his head to face him again. "Don't be." He repeated with more force looking purposefully into his eyes, _I trust you_, were the recurring implicit words of consent, _you won't let anything happen to us_.

Dean paused but then nodded slowly, testing to make sure the words were real and honest; he felt they were. And his eyes conveyed the last of the unspoken words:

_We're gonna be okay._

_**I NEED IDEAS. If you haven't noticed, the delays have sloooowly but surely been getting longer and longer. I feel horrible, I've gotten quite a few messages asking where I ran off too and what the FUCK is taking so long, and instead of lying and saying I was on my death bed, excuse me, I actually told the truth. Which was that I had writer's block and I tried everything, reading other stories, watching a couple episodes, talking to my dog…. So please, if you'd like to see anything happen let me know, cause I know where the stories heading but to get there, you know I want some action. Thanks for sticking with me through my pathetically irregular updates, you guys are awesome and I don't deserve any of you.**_


	11. Toe in the Pool

_**A/N: Oh dearest mistakes, they certainly love to evade me. And I'm pretty sure this chapter is littered with them, but bare with me cause its 4 am and I just can't go over it again. Apologies for the delay, whatever. **_

_**Chaps Warnin': wincest, mpreg, language. Nothing special.**_

It had been a month since the miscarriage, the kiss and the beginning of the morning sickness and both boys were surprised to find that no major mishaps had happened since. Sam spent most days in front of the toilet or curled up in bed, Dean always at his side, grieving the loss of their child. They were quiet days, filled with nothing but soft words of comfort and gentle touches of reassurance, but Sam silently, constantly craved more. The pain and the invariable aching loss, it was too much to keep wallowing in and he wanted to forget. To get lost in Dean: in exploring the newly discovered depths of _them,_ reveling in more of that rushing, heatedfeeling he got from their simple kisses. Because honestly, he was pretty sure at that point, it was the only thing that would keep him grounded and sane through the blurring, dizzyingly painful days.

Like Sam, Dean was also still dealing with the reality of losing their child, and figured he would be for a long time to come, but with the added morning sickness for his brother and overall stress of the past couple weeks there had been little time to share more than a few soft kisses and gentle touches with Sam. He wanted to delve in and treasure everything new and lose himself like he knew he could in just _Sam_. But it seemed one thing after another kept taking the time away from them.

"Hang in there Sammy," Dean comforted as he raked his fingers through Sam's bangs, pulling them back from his sweat-glistening face, "Meyer said this should stop soon."

Sam's dry heaving over the bowl was his only response, knuckles white as they curved over the porcelain lid, grasping at anything he could reach to keep from toppling over or falling into the toilet. He spit into the bowl and drug in a couple exhausted breaths flailing his hand up to flush before Dean caught him and did it himself.

"You sure you done?" Dean asked quietly, noticing Sam trying to get up. He shook his head weakly but grabbed onto Dean's chest and tried to stand anyway. Dean put his forearms under Sam's shoulders and pulled him up, letting him rest against him and the sink counter as he brushed his teeth before leading them both back to bed. "Have a little water." He whispered once he got his brother settled under the blankets again, handing over the glass on the nightstand. Sam complied with a soft grimace and took a sip, swallowing thickly.

Sam flopped back into the pillows and sighed, shifting his eyes from the ceiling to Dean noticing he wasn't moving from his spot by the bed, obviously wondering what he should do now. He just wanted to help his brother.

"It's not that bad Dean. A part of the package, I can deal with it." Sam said with a shrug and tired, attempted grin, latching onto Dean's t-shirt a moment later and pulling him forward. "Now stop mother-henning and get over here." He whispered raising his brow to ensure his order would be obeyed.

"I do not _mother hen _Sam." Dean corrected as he climbed over him to lay down, "I'm simply takin' care of my damsel in distress." He said with his trademark smirk, poking Sam lightly in the ribs.

Sam rolled his eyes, making it clear his joke had fallen flat.

"What? Someone's gotta hold back your hair." He kept teasing as he planted a kiss to Sam's temple running a hand across his chest before punching him lightly in the shoulder.

"Jerk." Sam mumbled hiding his smile.

"Been called worse." Dean shrugged, "Bitch." He muttered on instinct though a few minutes passed and his smile gradually faded before he rested his head on his propped up shoulder, rolling forward a moment later to lay his forehead against Sam's temple. Dean breathed against his cheek for a moment before Sam turned and faced him, pushing his lips tentatively to Dean's.

His heart jack hammered as his eyes fluttered closed and he pushed forward, relishing the missed heat of Sam's lips. Dean reached a hand up to the back of Sam's head, keeping him in place as he angled his head, gaining better access to the kiss. His tongue licked along Sam's bottom lip, setting ablaze the skin in its trail and Sam immediately opened up to his brother, sucking in a quick breath as he felt the slick muscle rub up against his own and over the smooth line of his teeth. Tendrils of fire shot from every place Dean touched straight to his cock, blood pulsing fast and harsh to harden him in his sweats.

Dean groaned into Sam's mouth, the sound echoing and then disappearing as lips closed around his, sucking and nipping at his swollen flesh. Sam caught Dean's shoulder and pulled him over his body, knees bumping thighs as they maneuvered around each other, the kiss turning frantic and heated for the first time ever as their bodies lined up. Sam could feel every line of Dean's muscles flexing and rolling against his own, every inch of their bodies pressed together and Dean's abs trembling as Sam's hand brushed over the sensitive skin above the waist line of his shorts.

"God Sam," Dean panted as the fingers kept caressing their teasingly slow strokes, adding just enough pressure to get his lower abs shifting and twitching to their own accord, blunt nails tracing harsh lines after soft pads of fingertips' tender brushes.

Suddenly Sam's hand stopped and pulled away just as it was about to reach past his waist band. Dean's heavy lidded eyes shot open and he pushed up higher to look at Sam, "What's wrong?" He whispered, worried he'd done something to hurt him.

"Dean…" Sam said, voice cautious and breathless as he looked assiduously at Dean's eyes and his hands came to rest on his ribs, "Ah, I just," He paused to take in a breath, "I guess it kinda just hit me, we haven't really talked about this yet. At all, a lots been going on I know but…I don't know, I think we should figure stuff out…like what exactly it is we're _doing_." Sam tried to laugh but it came out kind of choked and quiet in response to all the nerves, "It just, feels too major to jump into without talking about first, doesn't it?" Sam asked, continuing a moment later before Dean could answer, "I just wanna make sure this isn't gonna screw up something we can't fix later, if it doesn't work out or…fuck I don't know-"

"No Sam it's okay, I get what you're saying." Dean interrupted quietly as he rolled to the side of Sam, "I think it's a good idea." He nodded, wondering if it was really true. Of course they should talk about this - understand where the other was coming from and if it was for the right reasons, what they were gonna do about it for the future and what it meant, all that good, reasonable stuff…but exploring the emotional depths of anything had really never been one of Dean's strong suits.

"So you have any questions or ground rules or something you wanna talk about first?" He asked tentatively, his low voice scratchy but quiet in the room.

Sam took a minute to think, his solicitous eyes dancing around the bedspread as he searched for what to say, "When did…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "When did this start for you?"

"Uh, well, I guess about a month before I kissed you." Dean answered softly, unable to look at Sam and gage any reaction, but he could see him nod slightly in the corner of his eye.

"Hm." Was Sam's thoughtful response.

Dean breathed a tired laugh, "What about you? Have any…weird feelings before…well, you know." He asked unintelligibly, finding it hard to voice the words 'kiss you' more than once in the same minute.

"No actually." Sam said curiously, missing the way Dean's face fell at the answer, "But man as soon as you did…" Sam shook his head still looking at the bedspread, his eyes remembering back to the moment, "It was like everything around us went up in flames. I couldn't even find the room in my head to remember we were brothers, I just didn't wanna stop. Like I'd never felt so…full or, whole before in my life." Sam finished quietly, mind and eyes focused on the passed for a few hushed seconds before he snapped back into the present and realized everything he'd just said, to _Dean_. He laughed nervously and rubbed at his forehead, "How fuckin' pathetic does that sound." He asked rhetorically trying to backtrack.

Dean chuckled quietly with him, the sound hardly humorous though, "It doesn't actually." He mumbled as his mouth tilted down, considering Sam's words, "It's the best way I can think to describe it, however cliché it sounds. It's true." Dean looked gravely into Sam's slit hazel eyes, "Doesn't make you any less of a girl for saying it though." A grin slowly blossomed across his face.

Sam hit him in the shoulder knocking him backwards a couple inches before he laughed and regained his balance. Sam shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as they slowly sobered up, returning to the conversation.

"Sam, I know there's still a lot to figure out, this is a huge change for both of us, even without all the other shit that's happened lately. I know it's all a lot to deal with. And I don't know why it's happening now or where it came from, but I think that's okay. 'Cause whatever it is it's good, it feels right - the rest we can deal with as it comes. We'll take this, whatever, _slow_…as slow as we want, and just go from there." Dean offered softly, but saw Sam still deliberating as he played absently with loose strings on the comforter, his brain still working a mile a minute to figure out every detail like it often did with unresolved situations. So Dean took a moment to gather his pride and bury it before continuing, though he didn't get very far.

"Look Sammy, all I really know is being with you, like this," He whispered laying a hand against Sam's cheek as his thumb glided across his bottom lip, "It helps. It keeps me…tethered here, grounded while I deal with-" Dean sucked in a breath, cutting off the words as he shook his lowered head unwilling to finish. Instead he brought Sam's hand up from the blanket and pushed it to his lips, letting his eyes flit up to his brother's, trying to relay his meaning without voicing the words he couldn't find. Sam's brow turned up as his mouth pinched and he nodded in sorrowful understanding.

"I know." He whispered, "I honestly have…no idea how I'd stay sane through this if it wasn't you who was stuck in it with me."

Sam inched forward gradually, moving the hand against Dean's lips to slide down his stubble-rough cheek before wrapping behind Dean's neck and folding him up in his arms.

"Love you Sam." Dean breathed against his ear after relaxing into the hug, tangling his hand in the back of Sam's hair. His brother sucked in a quiet gasp at the barely-heard, unexpected words, but after letting them soak in, tightened his embrace around Dean, crushing him to his chest. He maneuvered a hand between them a squeezed a fist into Dean's shirt, directly above his heart.

_I love you too._

"How you feelin' boys?" Bobby asked as Sam and Dean clambered down the stairs and into the kitchen for dinner, just the way the four of them had done for the past two months. He could hardly believe a routine had actually been set in his home.

"Good." Both boys answered brightly and simultaneously, laughing lightly at their synchronized answer. And for once it didn't seem like a million miles from the truth.

Meyer looked surprised but cautiously optimistic as he dished himself up; Bobby nodded at the boys with a gruff chuckle and followed his friend's lead.

"Sam what do you feel like tonight?" Dean asked after loading up his plate with sloppy joe's. The question had also become somewhat of a routine at Bobby's as Sam's cravings had started really making their first strange appearances a little over a week ago and he rarely ate the same food as the rest of them anymore. Thankfully Meyer had stocked up on the healthiest organic foods he could find over the past few weeks, knowing it wouldn't be the first things on the boys' minds, so Sam had plenty to chose from.

"Actually, I think I'll handle it tonight. You've been cooking for me way too much lately, I gotta learn one of these days." He shrugged, "Go eat, I got it." Sam told his brother as he rummaged through the drawers of the fridge. Dean took a moment to smirk at his brother, watching him fumble around with ingredients as they almost toppled out of his arms, but then decided Sam was right and left to join Bobby and Meyer at the table.

"Just, don't burn the place down." He called over his shoulder as he sat down, "Lemme know if you need help before setting your pickles on fire or somethin-"

"Dean!" Sam interrupted as Dean started chuckling, "I got it alright?"

"Mhm." Dean mumbled smugly as Sam set the bag of bread in his hands on the counter and it tipped over, plunking to the floor. Bobby and Meyer couldn't contain their little snorts of laughter listening to Sam scrabble around the kitchen, but they made sure to keep quiet knowing Sam's hormone levels were through the roof now and anything could set him off.

Dean was just finishing inhaling his last sloppy joe when he heard Sam curse and suck in a hissing breath as something clattered to the floor in the kitchen.

"Sam?" Dean called as he jumped up from his chair and through the doorway toward the noise, the first thing he saw was blood dripping to the floor and counter. "Jesus Sammy what the hell happened?" He asked rushing to Sam's side seeing him pushing a bloody towel to his hand. Meyer joined him in the next second.

"Sam, you okay?" The doctor asked stepping up beside Dean.

"The knife slipped, I'm fine. Sorry."Sam mumbled, wincing as he pushed the rag against his finger adding more pressure to try and stop the bleeding. Bobby appeared in the doorway a moment later, knowing Sam would want space but making sure the situation was under control.

"Sorry." Dean repeated in a whisper scoffing at the ridiculous apology, "Lemme see." He held his hand out and gently wrapped around Sam's wrist pulling it closer before slowly removing the towel. "Damnet Sam." Dean said, trying not to sound too condescending or reprimanding as he took in the gash, "You almost took your finger off."

"It's nothing, I can handle it. Just go grab me the med kit, it'll only take a couple stitches." Sam said pulling his hand back and rewrapping it. "Please Dean," He continued when his brother gave him only skepticism and didn't move, "I'm hungry."

Dean shook his head but started toward the stairs anyway, "You know we don't have anesthetics." He warned as he hastily ascended the stairs.

"And how many times has that stopped us before?" Sam returned, spinning around to see Meyer and Bobby watching him intently with concern coloring their every feature, "Guys, seriously? This is practically a paper cut. Stop hovering and finish your dinner." Sam suggested giving them both pointed looks as he tried to mask his pain with condescension.

Dean returned with the med kit then, just as Meyer and Bobby began retreating to clean up the dishes in the dining room.

"Come on let's go to the bathroom." Dean said nodding towards the hallway. Sam agreed and followed his brother, his stomach grumbling loudly in the confined space as soon as the door closed.

Dean shook his head smirking at the sound as he took Sam's shoulders in his hands and sat him down on the toilet lid. "Dude, I told you to call me if you needed help." Dean said as he threaded a curved needle from the kit.

"I was cutting a freakin' apple. You really think I was about to call for help?" Sam asked raising his brow in astonishment, "It was an accident. Coulda happened to anyone." He defended looking away from Dean.

Dean took Sam's hand tenderly in his own and unwrapped the towel from his left index finger, setting the used rag in the sink, "Yeah man I know." He said quietly, noticing for the first time the damage that seemed to have been done on Sam's pride and trying not to add to it.

Dean ran alcohol over his fingers and the needle before asking if Sam was ready, receiving a dramatic sigh and eye roll, and proceeding with the stitching. Sam's gaze was steadily focused on the needle, watching every move with what Dean could only peg as impatience in his eyes, masking obvious pain behind very subtle shivers and almost unnoticeable twitches.

"Okay gramps, we finished?" Sam asked lifting his eyes from Dean's hands to his eyes, "I woulda been done ten hours ago if you'd have just let me do it." He said as a spark of amusement glinted in his eyes, still hiding all signs of his pain.

"Ha ha," Dean mocked as he got out some gauze and medical tape, "I'm surprised Sammy," He began a minute later, "not one word of complaint. Any normal day you woulda been bitching about what a butcher I am, grunting and moaning and huffing, hell just getting' pissy about _something_." He said, cunningly fishing for a reason behind the show.

"It's a tiny cut, what'd you expect some tears-"

"Sam you literally almost cut your finger off. Good thing I have experience patching that kinda thing up or I _would_'ve had to take you to the hospital." Dean said, his exasperation coloring his words. Sam didn't respond to them though, so he kept prodding, "Come on man what's with the whole tough guy routine? And the sudden desire to learn how to cook, you've always been a tornado in the kitchen, why now-"

"First of all there's no tough guy routine going on Dean, I'm fine, I'm not gonna throw a fit about a couple stitches like some baby. And second why the fuck do you care if I wanna know how to cook? It's something I should learn to do isn't it? I thought you'd be glad, one thing less for you to do for me." Sam said gesturing toward Dean sporadically.

"I am Sam, its fine if you want to know how to cook, it's not the point. It's just you've never shown any interest in learning before, and you've always griped and moaned about getting stitches, whether you were in pain or not. You always used to say it was just the idea that made you twitchy so don't tell me you're not playing tough-"

"I'm not some little _girl_ you have to hold hands with every second." Sam exploded spinning on his brother, "You don't have to take care of me! I'm not some kid, Dean. I'm a _man_ and I can handle myself." Sam spit pushing past Dean and out the door in the same second.

Dean stood there for just one second as the real meaning behind his brother's words clicked and then was chasing after him the next.

"Sam, wait up dude." Dean called down the hallway just as the door to their bedroom slammed closed. He trudged down the hall to stand before their door, "Open up Sammy." He said resting a fist against the frame, "C'mon man please let me in. Look I never said any of that stuff to imply that you were less of a man or something, I just didn't understand where it all was coming from. I get it now-"

The door swung open cutting off Dean's sentence, "You get what exactly Dean?" Sam asked through tight lips his voice obviously restrained.

Dean hesitantly stepped through the door before Sam slammed it back shut behind him, Dean flinching slightly at the sound and its implications. He had to watch every word, "I think I understand how you're feeling-"

"How I'm feeling?" Sam interrupted incredulously before laughing, "Dean you have no _idea_ how I'm feeling." He shook his head, lips pulling back from his teeth as he sucked in an unsteady breath, "You don't know how the stupidest, smallest, most ridiculous things can bring me to fucking tears now if I let them, or how at times I get so blinded with rage I just want to pound on someone till they're fuckin' out, for no reason at all." Sam said, voice raising in self-deprecation before he took a few seconds to breath.

"And you don't know how fucking bad this month has hurt man." He said, desperation tugging at his words, "Or how many times I've run to the shower just to cry so hard I collapse." Sam paused, tears of shame and pain shining in his eyes, "And you sure as hell don't know how pathetic all of it makes me feel," Sam shook his head again, glistening eyes dancing around the floor as he searched for words, "I guess I just needed to know, to prove – to myself as much as you and Bobby and Meyer – that I'm still a man. I can still do things for myself. 'Cause lately it's felt like I'm losing it man, all the shreds of my strength and dignity. I just wanted to hold onto the little normalcy I had left and know that I'm still capable, and still a _guy_." Sam laughed wiping at his wet eyes, "Guess I don't need to worry about proving _that _anymore, huh."

Dean sighed, his brow furrowed in disapproval but understanding, "You don't have anything to prove Sam." He said taking a step into his brother, "Hell I've never seen you so brave or strong in my life, no matter how it feels. The brawniest, manliest man in the world wouldn't take this is as well as you have, Sammy. Seriously." Dean enforced as his hands clutched Sam's shoulders and a small smile crept across his features. "But it doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time." He whispered after his grin faded, taking another step closer until he was standing toe to toe with his brother, his breath ghosting over Sam's cheek.

"I don't feel brave Dean." Sam whispered back, "I feel like I'm turning into a girl." He said as his head fell forward onto Dean's shoulder and a denigrated laugh escaped him, "Especially since I started getting so fuckin' huge." Sam said as he pushed off of Dean and turned around, folding his arms defiantly over his chest.

"What?" Dean asked in disbelief, "You're kidding right? Sam you haven't changed at all." He deadpanned.

"I've gained four pounds Dean. Four." Sam corrected.

"Over two months. That's good Sam, it's healthy," Dean said walking around to face his dejected brother, "You realize you're gonna get bigger as this goes on."

Sam didn't say anything, refusing to credit the statement with an answer. Dean sighed and let it go, raising his hand to land roughly over Sam's jaw patting once in a classic display of Dean-affection before letting it fall and stepping back. "You still hungry? We could get out of the house for a few hours. I'll buy you dinner." He offered, his brow lifting in rapid succession as he grinned cocking his head to the side.

Sam couldn't help but smile at that, "Buy me dinner." He repeated, huffing a quiet laugh as he shook his head once, "Sounds an awful lot like you're asking me out Dean, watch yourself." Sam joked, smacking Dean's arm before turning to grab his coat.

"Well," Dean started quietly, distractedly gathering his jacket off his bed too, "Would it be so crazy if I was?" He asked, trying to be cool as he turned back around toward Sam, working to keep the smile on his face.

Sam stared at him with what remained of his own grin, trying to discern what exactly his brother was playing at, but faltering slightly as he realized Dean wasn't kidding. "Wait, seriously?"

Dean nodded once.

"Dean, you don't do dates." Sam pointed out nervously, "Never have. With anyone, ever." He stumbled ungracefully, trying to understand what was happening.

"Well, cheesy as it's gonna sound, you're not anyone Sam." Dean shrugged chuckling softly, "And I figure if there's anyone I actually wanna try out - and not fuck up - this whole, relationship thing with, it's you." Dean said, marveling at his way with words, "Though, that's not to say I won't fuck it up. 'Cause you know, I've never-"

Dean didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say because, out of nowhere Sam's lips crashed into his own, hard and rough, teeth clicking together as they collided and tongues tangling as they battled for control. Sam's hands were wrapped in Dean's hair a split second later, forcefully tugging him closer and tilting his head to dominate the kiss; Dean complied, giving over completely. Sam slapped his arms around Dean's shoulders restlessly, gripping fistfuls of his shirt into his hands, unable to get enough of him.

It gave Dean all the answer he needed.

_**Review lovely wonderful little readers.**_

_**(Semi-spoiler for the latest supernatural episode) On a more important note, I want someone to talk to about the last fucking episode cliffhanger! I went insane, everyone I know who watches isn't caught up with the seasons so I can't give it away and talk to them, but I need to vent my frustrations with this time wait to someone, **_**everyone,**_** because wow. It's killing me. Who else went crazy? Gah how are they gonna get outta this? I just do not know..**_


	12. Paint the Town Red

_**I know its been a long time, and I keep saying the updates will come sooner and I know they keep getting longer. But I have a valid reason this time, a really close friend of mine passed away back home a couple days after the last post and I flew back to go to the funeral, so its been a rough month. I was in no mood to write, but yesterday, I don't know, I needed to. So here it is and its rough I'm sure, I don't have word anymore so I'm writing in this dinky little text edit thing, but I own all mistakes fully and apologize for them. I hope I haven't lost all of you to the long wait, just know, really, that updates will be faster now. Weekly probably. I popped this puppy out in two days so its not like I can't write anymore, just bare with me.**_

_**Love you all and I hope you enjoy.**_

Sam didn't separate from Dean's lips for a solid fifteen minutes: it was all heat and speed and unadulterated passion, even if that hadn't originally been Sam's intention. He'd only wanted to express his honest gratitude, this seemed like the fastest way to do it but now, it felt like they needed this, unhinged, crazed, desperate love, stitching them back together with every rough grip and tug, every hungry kiss.

Sam backed his brother up to the bed and buckled his knees against the edge of the mattress, throwing them both down onto the pillows in a mess of tangled limbs. Dean didn't mind even a little that they ended up a half hour late to their evening out.

"Dean, where the hell are we going?" Sam asked, his barely contained excitement completing the goofy grin dimpling his cheeks. They drove through town, the various lit up signs in the small town flashing and twinkling, casting oddly colored lights and shapes onto their otherwise shaded faces. "And why is there a cooler in the back seat?" Sam finished finally noticing the red box behind them.

"Cause we're gonna be late." Dean answered smoothly, looking swiftly over at Sam, catching sight of his still kiss swollen lips colored blue in the light of a bar sign they passed. He lifted his eyes, smirking at his younger, completely confused sibling before turning back to the road.

"So we're not going to get food?" Dean shook his head, Sam's tilted in his own in answering perplexity, "Okay then we're…?"

"We're going out." Dean replied shortly and despite himself, Sam's stomach flipped with the clipped words. He didn't fish for an answer after that, satisfied with the mild suspense and simple prospect that Dean was taking him out. He wasn't willing to jeopardize the new effort Dean seemed to be putting into their relationship, brotherly and otherwise. Because he hadn't expected it with all the insanity that had made up their lives lately, so he wasn't pushing it.

About twenty minutes later, they arrived at a nearly deserted parking lot with a huge white screen propped up by metal framing against a twenty-five foot wall of hay, facing the few parked cars in the lot. They were late, like Dean had said, but with a little coaxing from the ticket booth they were let in. It was a drive in theatre.

"Holy shit Dean." Sam muttered, glad he finally understood what was going on. He took a moment to study what was playing on screen, knowing he recognized the scenes from somewhere...a few seconds later it came to him, "Porky's?" Sam exclaimed whirling around to face his brother, "No fuckin' way."

Dean laughed at Sam's disbelief, "Yeah man, Porky's." He said a little incredulous himself, "You 'member the first time you saw this?"

"Hell yeah I remember, I think I was like six. You snuck me into the theatre." Sam laughed watching the characters on screen, "It was the first time you took me to a theatre. First movie we ever saw together." He muttered distractedly, still focused on the screen. Dean subtly did a double take at his brother hearing the words, sure Sam hadn't remembered.

"You're a horrible influence by the way." Sam half whispered, chuckling as he looked over at Dean, who was unknowingly still looking at Sam with something like wonder in his eyes. Sam's expression turned confused quickly and Dean snapped his head down, laughing softly at his ridiculous sentimental side making an appearance now of all times. Sam just cocked his head further until Dean shot him a sideways glance and shook his head, "Nothin' Sammy. Just didn't think you remembered…" He shrugged, brushing it off. Sam's face softened once he understood, taken aback once again by Dean's sentimentality. Dean's eyes bounced from the dash to his brother's a few times, unnerved by the unabashed affection pouring from his gaze before they finally decided to land on Sam's and stay, studying the emotions playing behind them. He wasn't sure how long they stared but eventually, Sam started leaning forward, just a few inches, and that's when Dean's untimely mouth decided to open.

"Man is this not a total 'first date' moment or what?" He scoffed, squirming uncomfortably as he chuckled unconvincingly.

Sam fell back against his seat quickly, laughing somewhat incredulously and somewhat amusedly at Dean being completely and totally just…Dean. Sam shook his head slowly after he stopped his chortling and let his body relax back into the seat, deciding if they were really going to sit here and watch this movie on opposite sides of the car all night, that he might as well make himself comfortable. It was a half hour later, just as Sam started getting into the movie, that his stomach rumbled loud and low in the quiet confines of the car, his almost forgotten appetite returning full throttle.

Dean smirked before looking over at him, "Hungry?" He asked sarcastically, lifting at brow at Sam as the single word rolled with gravel off his tongue. Sam faltered in silence for a minute, marveling at how his brother could take a word like 'hungry' and completely distract him from any desire for food, before gathering his bearings and nodding jerkily. Dean's grin grew seeing Sam's reaction to his simple question as he shifted out of his seat and leaned over the bench reaching into the cooler, "What do ya feel like Sammy?" He asked over his shoulder, fully aware of how close the position put his ass to Sam's face. And Sam honestly couldn't be blamed if he stalled and stared a beat too long watching Dean's shirt ride up over his back, showing off the snug waist of his black briefs where they met his perfectly bronzed skin. He was suddenly tantalized with the harsh shadows that exaggerated every bump and curve of Dean's muscled back in the white light of the moon, the dark valley of his spine acting as a flawless trail to his impeccably sculpted ass.

"Um," He licked his lips, "Well, what do we got?" He asked just a second too late before he collected himself again and focused on what Dean was doing on the other side of the bench. Though, as soon as his eyes reached the other side of the bench he realized Dean had been watching his lustful stare the whole time, and now a rather amused smile twitched across his lips.

Sam chose to ignore his getting caught and just looked at Dean expectantly until he answered, "Ham and cheese sandwiches, yogurt, couple pickles, and burgers." Dean answered not letting his smug smile fade, "And a salad to go." He added meeting Sam's eyes pointedly.

Sam laughed shaking his head, "Damn you know me well."

"Its a burden I'll always bear," He shot back still grinning before handing over a sandwich, the yogurt, and the salad knowing the pickle had become something of a dessert for his brother lately.

"Creepily well." He said observing the food: the sandwiches were even cut the way he liked. Diagonally with no crust, cause he liked eating from the corners and hated how dry and crumbly crust tasted - there was just something easy about the whole process if they were cut like this. And apparently Dean had noticed.

"When'd you have time to do all this?" Sam asked thinking back to their evening, it'd seemed pretty full. Because he had been cooking, Dean had been eating, then he'd cut himself, Dean stitched him, they'd fought, they'd made up and then Dean had asked him out. Now here they were and Sam wasn't seeing any way Dean could've fit in packing a cooler and finding a drive-in theatre between all that. He had to have planned this then.

Dean looked down as he sat back in his seat, "Well it was packed this afternoon. I made a couple extra things at lunch - it was just supposed to be like a snack in case you got hungry, and of course, you actually agreed to come out, which I definitely wasn't positive about, but it turned out to be useful, so I'm glad I did."

"So you did plan this." Sam confirmed with a small smile.

Dean nodded with a shrug, "I saw an add in the paper yesterday about this movie playing and, well, it got me thinking about when we saw it…I couldn't just ignore it, I mean, when were we ever gonna see Porky's in a theatre again? Once in a lifetime opportunity."

Sam's lips pulled back to reveal the perfect row of white teeth as his cheeks dimpled around his full blown smile, "Yeah, once in a lifetime." He agreed quietly, thoughtfully, before turning back to his already half eaten sandwich and finishing it in a few monstrous bites. Both boys fell back into silence as Sam ate, watching their movie and feeling almost entirely content for the first time in a what seemed like an impossibly long time.

Sam threw one piece of garbage wrapping after another back into the ice box as he devoured one food item after another, finally finishing with his beloved pickles and tossing the jar in too. Had Dean known better he would've said the kid hadn't eaten in months as he watched him munch down everything he'd brought. Sam sighed once he was finished, relaxing back into the seat and shifting up his hips to wriggle down until his bloated stomach was less pressured and he was comfortable. He quickly tugged down his shirt though, noticing Dean's eyes watching him as he moved around. Sam made sure he kept his own gaze glued to the screen until he felt Dean's eyes move away too, relaxing minutely once the attention was off him. Immediately though his thoughts turned to where all this uncharacteristic self-consciousness was coming from.

His hands roamed to his stomach feeling the taut skin under his fingers as it bulged out over the waist line of his jeans and suddenly he was bombarded with images of himself six and seven, nine months along this thing, with twins, and felt like he might puke. He was already fat by Winchester standards having gained the four pounds, but thinking about how much more there was to come? He was lightheaded and threatening to hyperventilate in a second. Next came the reminders of morning sickness and fatigue and these absolutely ridiculous overwhelming emotions and he was right back to where he'd been a few hours ago, pitying himself for feeling like a girl. Becoming a girl.

And then a new train of thought hit him.

"Dean." Sam almost whimpered, quickly clearing his throat in hopes of covering up his cowardice.

"'Sup Sammy?" Dean asked stalling for a second before tearing his attention from the film, noticing belatedly the fear in his brother's expression. And his tone. "Sam? You alright?" He asked urgently, hand reaching out automatically to rest on Sam's forearm.

Sam nodded a few quick small nods in hopes of being convincingly reassuring but honestly only worrying Dean further. "Sam, talk to me. What's going on?" He tried again, softening his tone like he would for a frightened pup. His brother took in a slow, deep breath, hesitating before letting it out in a quick huff.

"I'm gonna get fat." He whispered as if speaking the words too loud would let the whole world in on their secret.

Dean released a softly breathed laugh, "Sam…" He sighed, searching out the right words as quickly as he could, "You're not gonna be fat. You'll be carrying babies. …Our babies. And in a few months it'll be over and you'll have back the washboard abs I know you're ridiculously proud of and we'll have our kids." Dean lightly tried to encourage, "It's gonna be alright." He swore.

Sam sighed almost completely ignoring the encouragement from his brother, "Dean…this thing with us…?" He began so quietly Dean almost had to still his breathing to hear, "Its just starting." He breathed gaining a little volume, "And it's shaky as it is just being…_what_ it is. 'Cause I mean, its crazy - we need it, I do at least, and it helps, it feels right or whatever, but its still crazy, you know? And, I-" Sam sighed again, the breath taking the words with it as frustration stopped him for finishing. He kept searching for words that would adequately describe whatever it was he was trying to say but again and again he came up with nothing. So they were both quiet for a handful of seconds, Dean still trying to understand from what he did get and Sam still trying to find a way to make him.

"I don't like being in my own skin anymore." Sam admitted, finally deciding to throw inhibitions and selective word choice to the wind and spill everything that was on his cluttered, frustrated mind knowing it was the only way he could make this work. "I hate looking in the mirror now. And not even because I'm physically changing that much, I know I'm not. Not yet at least. But because I don't like seeing _me_ anymore. I feel…so messed up, man. So different, like some freak show. I'm self-conscious all the time…and scared…and I never felt like that before. I used to feel strong, indestructible even, and confident…in myself and in what we did: I mean, saving people and hunting, it wasn't a dream but I had a purpose, ya know? And now when I look at myself I see…a weak shell of what I used to be. So _emotional_ and dependent…and useless." He shook his head sadly before blinking up to meet Dean's eyes, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea though," He said softly, "I'm not angry to have these kids, I…love them. I do. But I'm telling you all this to try and make you understand that what's happening to me, the cut from hunting and the hormones and the morning sickness and cravings and now this gaining weight, staring down at, what, 45 more pounds to go over the next few _months_? It's…changing me, not just physically, I feel like a lesser version of myself. And it scares me to think about…when I am farther into this, and everything starts getting real, and I look like some fat _woman_ carrying these babies, that its gonna be too much. And you're…gonna be disgusted by me. You're gonna run."

Dean was shocked into silence for almost twenty full, long, horrible seconds just going over every agonizing word he'd heard. It was basically what Sam had said earlier, about feeling weak, except more explicit and desperate and completely heart-wrenching, but what really got Dean, on top of it all, was hearing that Sam thought he'd _run_ because of it.

"Sam." Dean managed to finally choke out, "I don't…even know what to say to that." He shook his head vigorously, trying to understand what he _could_ say to that. He wouldn't leave? Of course he wouldn't fucking leave, there was no way, but saying the words wouldn't do a damn thing for Sam, he still knew him well enough to know that.

Dean looked over at Sam with harsh incredulity at what he felt were the most ridiculous words he'd ever heard, but then he saw the fear in his younger brother's eyes, the regret, like Sam thought Dean was mad at him for saying them, and it wiped the disbelief right off his face. His tone was softer than he'd originally thought it'd be when he began, now trying to assure his brother he wasn't mad at him for speaking his mind and trying to lessen the heavy tension between them.

"Look man you know I suck at these conversations, and honestly its pretty shitty of you keep making me go through them," He joked half-heartedly but Sam's face fell even further and Dean scrambled to back track, "No, Sam, dude it was a joke…I was…" just trying to lighten the mood. Okay new tactic. Dean sighed before deciding how to continue, "Okay, first of all, I honestly think its a little insane you'd even consider the idea of me leaving." He said, his voice and eyes hardening to convey his seriousness, "Yeah, this…whatever between us, its shaky and undefined and a little weird, even if it is good and what we need right now, but its not what _defines_ you and me, Sam. We're brothers. Before everything. And that alone should make it obvious that no matter what happens, between us or to us or around us, whatever man, I'll never leave you. For any reason, as long as you want me around I'm here." Dean said, distancing emotion from his words as best he could as he grudgingly poured his fuckin' heart out to his dejected little brother, making a point to meet Sam's eyes as little as possible, even if, in the end, he couldn't bring himself to wish the conversation hadn't happened. This had needed to be said and he was glad he'd said it.

Sam's eyes were swimming in uncontrollable tears he tried his hardest to blink away once Dean was done. Watching his brother let down his impenetrable walls _again_, for him alone, to reassure him, was something he'd never tire of and never take for granted. He'd never felt so undeserving of something in his life, but he'd also never felt so incredibly satisfied either.

"And secondly," Dean continued a few seconds later, surprising Sam, "That stuff about you being a girl or scaring me off with the symptoms and shit, its crap Sam. From what you've said I think I get it now, how you're feeling inside, I can only imagine how something like this would effect me, but you have to know man I don't see you as some girl. I never will. You'll always be Sam to me, my pain in the ass little brother. " Dean shrugged, a small smile flickering on pursed lips as he paused a moment , gathering his thoughts. "And even now with this thing between us, with me being…attracted to you," He said, doing his damnedest not to trip over the words like his voice wanted him to, "I know no physical change in you is gonna stop that. Nothing will." Dean promised, locking Sam's eyes with the utmost of somber gazes. But there was a flicker of something else there that Sam barely caught. Desire maybe, hunger. Whatever it was it had Sam's stomach flipping lightly in knee-jerk excitement, "Not with how strong this is." Dean continued, his quiet voice dropping low into his chest, like he could deny the words if they were soft enough. Sam was proud of the revelation anyway.

Dean pulled himself forward a few inches, keeping track of the emotions in Sam's eyes, judging that he was okay with the move as he kept sliding a second later, dragging himself across the bench seat slowly, making sure every inch closer was alright with Sam. Soon he was relishing in Sam's speeded breath and hooding eyes, anticipation getting the best of his senses. "There's no way…I'd ever leave." He whispered, wondering somewhere in the recesses of his mind where these confident words of mixed lust and honesty were coming from. He pushed the thought aside though as he neared Sam, a breadth away from his lips as he shifted onto his knees, lifting one to plant in-between Sam's legs, straddling his thigh.

Sam let out a shaky sigh as he fell back into the seat, getting a better view of Dean straddling him, hovering a few inches above his face. His hands came up to cup his jaw roughly and Sam felt Dean's already half hard cock rub against his thigh as he rolled his hips on top of him. With that one move, the stark green of Dean's eyes boring hungrily into him and the rough hands groping his body, suddenly all the blood in him was rushing to his cock. He was so hard so fast it was border-line painful.

"Dean." Came the barely heard whisper from Sam's lips, the word falling from him like liquid gold, invaluable and worshiped, soft and pliant, just a breadth of a sound. And then everything snapped into action, turned to quick, urgent passion and Dean was colliding into Sam, clutching him roughly. His lips were hard and Sam's molded to fit around them, his tongue darting out only seconds later to seek entry, so eager to taste everything it could reach. Dean's lips opened against Sam's, dragging his brother's apart with them and shoving his tongue to glide along Sam's, treasuring every molten spark that shot from the heat he explored to the deep pit of his belly, hardening him in a matter of seconds.

Sam pressed his toes into the floor of the impala, lifting his thigh into the impossibly hard cock he felt against him, a low hitched moan getting caught in his throat as the heat of Dean's groin melted into his leg. In a flash Dean's hands were pushing into his own crotch, rubbing him down through his stiff denims; he couldn't take the teasing friction for more than a few short seconds before a low but desperate whimper was dragging itself out from his chest. Dean's palm just pushed harder, almost painfully so before lightening up and backing away an inch to look into Sam's wide eyes, "You know I feel that Sam," Dean whispered gruffly, fingers curling to mold around his length as a deep groan scraped itself from Sam's throat, "So fuckin' hard…" He groaned as his head tipped back. He let his blunt nails scrape over the rough fabric of Sam's jeans, taking in the low, choked whimper he received in response, "You don't ever…have to worry…I'll see you as a girl." Dean said with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, his eyes, "I _know_ better…" He breathed against Sam's neck, pulling his hand up and down Sam's length again, tantalizingly slow, before leaning back, "you should too." Dean finished more seriously, staring attentively at Sam to quickly determining whether his words were getting through to him or not.

A moment later Sam took a quiet shaky breath and nodded jerkily to his brother, relief overwhelming him before he pulled him back down to catch his lips. The words spread a soothing heat blooming through Sam's chest, a feeling he knew he'd hold onto always: Dean was like a drug, like pain relief he didn't know he needed. Fuck society 'cause he could _live_ for this feeling. Treasured in the eyes of the one person that mattered. He'd never ask for anything else.

It was all speed and hunger and heat after that as Sam crushed Dean to him, wrapping both arms around his neck and groping at the back of his hair as his thigh worked up into Dean's groin again. Another stuttered moan pulled its way out from his brother's chest and into Sam's mouth, his hot breath ghosting over Sam's lips as his fingers made quick work to get the button and zipper open on Sam's jeans. He fell forward into Sam's neck as the rippled muscle of his brother's thigh kept working against him; he ground into it, his hands coming up to cup Sam's chest, feeling the wide spans of muscle twitch and tense against his palms.

"God you're so fuckin' hot Sam." He growled into the crook of his neck, nipping at the sweat glistening skin under his lips. Sam moaned louder than before arching up into Dean's body as the words sent a jolt of heat to his already leaking dick.

"Fuck Dean. You're gonna kill me." Sam sighed tilting his head back to give Dean more room to work his teeth, "More." He whispered before groaning into the air above him, pushing up into him again, writhing under the skillfully teasing touches.

"Yeah Sammy." Dean said thickly, lust deepening his already gravelly voice, "Hang on, I gotcha." He promised as he slid down Sam's lithe body, hands working into each mound of muscle they passed before dragging Sam's shirt up, nails and teeth biting into exposed flesh as his soft tongue soothed the trail. God he'd never been so turned on in his life and his dick literally jumped once he hit the ground before Sam's feet, kneeling in between his spread legs, a mouth watering invitation to take whatever he wanted.

Dean looked up into hooded, sparked hazel eyes as his hands gripped each of Sam's knees, slowing pushing up the spans of muscle before running softly back down and repeating the action. His hands lingered at the top of each thigh, fingers curling into the crevasse of both hip joints, digging into the sensitive muscle and watching as Sam's face contorted to mixed pain and pleasure, silently begging for_ more_.

Officially done with the foreplay, Dean yanked Sam's jeans down, his boxers coming with them in the same tug. He would've spared a cautious glance out the window to make sure no one was watching them before he did this, but was suddenly so transfixed on the thick, nine inch cock staring at him, he couldn't remember what he'd been worried about. He was completely mesmerized as pre-come dribbled down the darkened skin of the head and smeared onto his still slightly rounded belly. Dean's stomach was in knots of anxiety and excitement and unhinged lust as he took in every detail, calming his nerves to savor this one first time on a long list of many, that would honestly mean something real. He never wanted to forget it.

Sam mistook the heavy lustful gazing as scrutinizing judgment and on instinct tried to close his legs but just ran into Dean, so his hands lowered to cover his cock and his cheeks started burning with embarrassment. He knew this would happen, there was no way he could compete with the many beautiful woman Dean had been with. Now it would be too much and he'd scare him off. How could he possibly be good enough for Dean?

As soon as Sam's hands came down and obstructed his view, Dean snapped out of it and finally looked up to his brother to see his neck and cheeks burning red and his eyes worried and hurt. Dean's brow furrowed as he wordlessly pulled Sam's hands away from himself and leaned forward to lick along the base of his softening dick, pushing his tongue against the rig of the head and then into the slit, tasting the pre-come on his tongue. He moved his head up a few inches and replaced his tongue with his hand, stroking Sam back to hardness as he pressed an open mouth kiss into the tight skin of his belly.

"You're fuckin' incredible Sammy." His swollen lips breathed against his stomach as his other hand gently kneaded the skin under his fingers. Dean sat up on his knees and reached forward to kiss at Sam's neck, pushing his shirt up to his under arms again, his fingers tweaking Sam's sensitive nipples as his lips pulled up the flesh of his neck, sucking hard to bring blood to the surface. "So beautiful." Dean whispered as he let go, just barely breathing the words, almost inaudibly, but Sam heard them. Relished them, repeated them, stored them away to come back to another time. He never thought he'd hear them.

His eyes didn't break from Sam's as the hand working Sam's cock stilled at the base and his lips descended toward the head, closing around it and rubbing his tongue along the base, sucking the taste of his brother onto his tongue. His own member twitched at the sound his brother made in response: a loud, low, _pleading_ but grateful moan pushed its way out of Sam's lips as his body bowed off the seat and his hands tangled in Dean's hair. He desperately tried to keep eye contact though. He wanted to _see _Dean as he swallowed him down, see his lips stretched around his length and his eyes bright but hooded as he tasted him. Sam couldn't get enough.

Dean was taken aback at how responsive Sam was; he knew right away he'd be addicted to getting him off from this moment on if he got to hear _those_ noises each time. If he got to watch Sam loose himself under his hands, his touch. He could not wait to experiment with him, find out everything he liked and didn't, find his kinks, his soft spots, just the right ways to touch him to immediately turn him on, he couldn't wait to know his brother this way. The side he never thought he'd see, now splayed out before him to thoroughly discover.

Dean sucked harder, pulling another cry from Sam, his body arching again before Dean loosened his hold and slid down farther, enveloping more of him in his soft heat. He'd never done this before, never experimented with anyone of his own gender before, but he knew what _he_ liked and that proved plenty enough for him to keep his brother satisfied.

"Holy fuck Dean." Sam breathed as a rush of air exploded from his lungs, hitching in his chest a moment later as Dean's tongue flicked up over the stimulated ridge of his head, "Shit." He hissed, his arms shaking with the strain it took to not still Dean's head in his hands and shove every inch of himself inside that incredible liquid heat. He blew out a more controlled exhale, calming himself before relaxing his grip on Dean's hair and moving his hands to clutch the bench behind his head.

Dean was so fuckin' hard he thought he'd come just _watching _Sam, the way he moved under him, graceful and smooth but animalistic and raw at the same time, so _intense_. Every sense was heightened and every touch, every _sound_, was sending electric shocks through his overstimulated body. And he wasn't even touching himself. It was insane. Dean watched the muscles in Sam's arms flex as he gripped the back of the seat, his head tossing back and forth between them as his hips rutted softly but urgently up toward his mouth.

"'M close man," Sam cautioned half out of his mind and completely stunned he'd found somewhere in his brain still functioning to speak, "So close," He sobbed a soft groan before pushing at Dean's head, trying to get him off so as to not come in his mouth, "Dean," He mumbled wondering if he understood what was about to happen, but then Dean gripped Sam's hips tightly, pointedly, and simply backed up a few inches leaving only the head in his mouth, waiting. Then Sam understood with shocked, elated surprise and let Dean stay as he hollowed his cheeks one last time, sucking _hard_. Sam stifled a hoarse shout into his bicep, his hips bucking off the seat as he exploded onto Dean's tongue.

And he lapped up everything Sam gave, swallowing with ease as he looked up to his disoriented, blissed-out brother, chest heaving in rapid succession as he slowly came back to his senses. Dean smirked at the sight - all his doing. It was a fucking fantastic feeling.

He kissed up Sam's thigh as he palmed his own crotch, more than ready for his own release but still preoccupied with watching his brother recover, tasting his sweat-salty skin as he brought him back to complete awarness.

"Sammy." He murmured quietly, lips moving against the inner junction of his thigh and hip, rustling the soft curls surrounding his now soft cock. "You alright man?" He asked half teasingly, lips still stroking the inside joint of his hip. Sam shivered at the touch after such an intense orgasm and pushed Dean away lightly, a small grin on his wine red lips.

"You're turn." He whispered hoarsely as he cocked a playful brow.

_**reviews are sincerely appreciated though never demanded and if you wish to leave one, please pretty please leave it about the story only, because I sincerely appreciate condolences, but I wanna know your thoughts on the chapter:)**_

_**Love Kels.**_


	13. Yes, We Are Home

_Only a little over a week since the last update, much better than before AND I had a 15 page research paper to do. I'm thoroughly impressed with myself:) Hope you can see through any and all of my careless mistakes and enjoy the chapter!_

_LOVE_

Dean could only stare at Sam for a long moment, in something of a trance. Those bright, lust-hazed eyes, and spit-glistening lips, thick cock still out in all its glory, draped over his tanned, solid thigh and his white t-shirt sticking to his heaving chest with sweat: he'd put any porn star to shame.

"Be gentle with me." Dean breathed cocking a mocking brow as he let a slow grin blossom across his face and he chuckled at his antics. He was only faintly amused though, falling back on his humor to mask his desperate, needy desire, but trusting that Sam understood it meant more.

All of this did. It meant everything, which was the exact reason for Dean's humor, but they both understood that, and it made it okay.

Sam growled around his own wicked smile and hauled Dean up onto the seat next to him, his mouth attacking in the same second. Sam's hands groped whatever they could reach, alternating between tugging his own pants up and grasping at anything _Dean_ until finally his jeans were secure around his waist and he could leap over to straddle Dean's lap.

"No such luck Dean-y boy." Sam croaked back in his still fucked-out voice as he patted his cheek and laughed softly, descending towards his lips again. The kiss was slower this time despite Sam's teasing words, his tongue lapping gently at the contours of Dean's mouth and tongue and already bruising lips as his thumbs stroked the stubbled jaw under his hands. He sucked in a deep breath, lips flush against Dean's, breathing in his air as his brow knit in an overload of emotions, "Love you. Dean." Sam sighed slowly against the corner of Dean's mouth, turning minutely to plant his against Dean's once again, feeling it almost painful to be apart at that point. How this thing had grown to the highest levels of intensity and commitment so quickly neither boy could fathom, but now that it was there, they never wanted it to stop.

The smacking and panting sounds of their colliding lips mixed with the overall ambiance and thrill of it all being in a drive-in theatre was almost enough to have Sam's cock stirring back to life. But then Dean's hands were all over his body again, bruising finger prints into his hips, thumbing his nipples, groping his chest, his back, his ass, and Sam couldn't suppress a moan before he slipped off the seat. He wouldn't be able to treat his brother if Dean kept any of that up much longer.

Sam raised an eye brow and nibbled on his bottom lip as he undid Dean's button, the soft snapping release like a gun shot in the car. Dean groaned under his breath as the pressure against his cock ebbed away with every tooth of the zipper coming undone; he never took his eyes away from Sam's.

"Love you." Dean returned breathily as his hands ran through Sam's untidy locks: they appeared almost black in the shadows of the car, his face also nearly swallowed in the darkness. Sam's stomach did its familiar flip at the words and he slowly stretched forward, fisting his hands in Dean's jeans, his face illuminated once again by the flashing lights of the screen before disappearing as he fell back and pulled the offending material down to Dean's ankles.

His boxers followed straight after and Sam only spared a few precious milliseconds appreciating the beauty of Dean's bare body before his fist was wrapping around his dick and his mouth was descending. Dean gave a hoarse yelp at the eager ministrations, boeing off the seat and into that heat seconds later. Sam's lips slipped farther down Dean's shaft, his hand creating the desired friction for anything he couldn't take in and Dean writhed and grunted under him, urging him on faster, harder, deeper. _More_.

"Yeah, fuck Sam. God." Dean half whispered half moaned as his hands knotted in Sam's hair, adding to its already tousled look. Sam hummed low in his throat hearing Dean's praising words and Dean immediately slapped a hand down against the leather seat, his head snapped toward his chest as he grit his teeth against the utmost perfect of vibrations. Sam did it again, seeing Dean's reaction and smirked around the heavy dick in his mouth as Dean thrashed against the sensation, head falling back this time as he cried out long and loud, continuing to encourage Sam with mumbled nonsense whispers.

Sam's free hand moved from where it had been resting against Dean's chest down to his belly button, circling the sensitive dip before moving around the inside of his thigh to his balls, sucking _hard_ as he rolled the sensitive sack in his nimble fingers.

"Mm," Dean grunted through clenched teeth and flared nostrils, arching into Sam again as his brother started massaging. Sam's teeth ever so gently glided along the sensitive skin of Dean's shaft, relishing in the answering moan and pulling farther back to keep only the head in his mouth. His tongue circled the ridge of the head, sending sparks shooting up Dean's spine as he arched up again, hands gripping onto the leather for dear fucking life.

Sam's slick muscle worked along the slit after a moment, coaxing out more dribbles of pre-come, sucking roughly before suddenly relaxing and descending once more, letting his tongue pulse along the underside of Dean's cock. He memorized every ridge and line of the heavy weight in his mouth as he kept pushing forward, tongue working mercilessly as he swallowed a few times, getting his gag reflex to relax. Finally he felt the tip nudge the back of his throat.

Dean yelled out for a short second, loud and low echoing though the car, eyes shooting wide before clamping shut as his breath stuttered out of him in a jarring shudder. He was almost stunned to feel how deep his brother had let him in but then he was so mixed up and dazed in the bliss pulsing through him he couldn't quite understand anything besides how fucking incredible this feeling was. He was sure there was nothing better.

Sam swallowed again, all the muscles in his mouth working at once to squeeze Dean in and try to pull him farther but holy fuck that was too much.

"Shit…I'm fuckin' there Sammy." Dean cautioned loosening his fists in Sam's hair before white-knuckling the seat behind him, exactly the way Sam had done minutes before, finding he needed to keep hold of _something_ if he was going to make it through this with his sanity, but not wanting to hold Sam in place in case he wanted to back off.

"Ah, fuck…" Dean breathed as Sam took him as far down as he could one last time, hollowed out his cheeks and let Dean come inside him with a croaky shout. One that sounded vaguely like a prolonged version of his name. Sam had never heard anything so perfect.

He swallowed everything Dean offered before gently backing off, blowing on the softened, still wet member before him, loving the moan and gentle twitch he received in response. His hands rubbed at Dean's thighs, tenderly relaxing the shot muscles as he fell back on his heels and rested against the dash, catching his breath and watching Dean do the same. Both of his arms were limp at his sides, his eyes closed, lips parted and chest working double time to gather enough oxygen to keep him conscious. Or knock him out. Sam couldn't quite tell yet, all he knew was Dean was the picture of peace and perfection, and he was on cloud nine knowing he had brought him there.

"Sammy." Dean said on one of his recovering sighs as he cracked his eye open and lifted a hand to try and grab Sam's shoulder. Sam got the message and gave Dean a small smirk as he lifted himself back onto the seat and buttoned up his jeans, watching Dean slowly come back to himself and take advantage of the new leg room to pull his own pants up. He winced slightly as the material rubbed against his overstimulated prick but soon relaxed into the seat with a contented sigh, his hand slapping Sam's knee.

"That was the best fuckin' blow _ever_." Dean said matter-of-factly as his eyes distanced toward the dash, remembering back through the past few minutes. "And that's really saying something." Sam chuckled at his brother's typical romantic display of affection and gratitude and patted him back.

"You weren't half bad yourself." Sam replied mocking Dean's obvious surprise as he scooted down in his seat, getting himself comfortable. "Sorry we missed most of Porky's." Sam offered unapologetically, his chest gently bobbing with quiet laughter.

"Worth it." Dean responded just above a whisper, smirking contentedly.

"Definitely." Sam agreed just as softly. They settled in together to watch the rest of the mostly forgotten movie, this time though with Dean's arm draped over his brother's shoulders, Sam's head resting back against his bicep and his hand curled around Dean's thigh. _Together_. How it should've been.

Soon the movie was over and they were headed back to Bobby's, Sam already having fallen asleep against Dean's shoulder and Dean ready to pass out at the wheel himself. Neither boy had been getting full nights of sleep with Sam's constant nausea, so their beds were beckoning more and more insistently with ever passing second. Sam's head lolled against Dean's shoulder as they curved along the road and turned off onto their street, the soft tickling of Sam's hair on his neck spreading a soft warmth throughout Dean's belly. Happiness, he thought.

It was unusual feeling, one that that made his bones itch, urging him to do something dangerous, something to give him that familiar adrenaline rush, but one that made his heart slow to settle in and hold on for as long as it could.

He sighed deeply as they slowed down over Bobby's dirt driveway, a small, sleepy smile pulling on his lips as he unconsciously reminisced over the night he felt was the closest to normal he'd ever get, surprised to find it had been entirely bearable. Even fun. Okay, the most fun he'd had in years. Even the sex excluded.

Dean tenderly roused Sam with a few whispered words, slurred in his own exhaustion after parking the impala for the night and tucking the keys away. He helped Sam out, who, for all intents and purposes, was still asleep on Dean's shoulder, and pulled one of his arms over his neck as they made their way inside.

As they weaved their way around the junk cars littering Bobby's lawn, Sam cracked opened his eyes and whispered a few questioning words into Dean's neck, "We home?"

Dean really couldn't deny, the question wasn't exactly one to fumble with. It didn't have much weight or meaning behind it, hell Sam was half asleep when he asked it anyway, but for a reason unbeknownst to him, the question struck him with a wave of emotion he could not justify nor understand. And he did fumble with it, the words rattling in his head for a long while before he could answer. Because they sounded so surreal reaching his. _Home_.

He took a deep breath, glancing around the star-scattered sky and the gravely dirt crunching under his shoes and the old run down house he'd seen and visited countless times before, and figured there was really only one way to answer that question.

"'Course Sammy. Where else would we be?" He asked, feeding off the strange giddiness speeding up his heart and broadening his smile, "We're home."

Sam looked up lazily to his brother with a matching grin before straightening up and blinking his eyes clear, "Thank god." Sam groaned before falling to Dean's shoulder again.

Dean laughed exhaling slowly as they stepped inside, "Almost there man, just a couple more minutes and you can pass out, but Ima be pissed if you make me carry your ass." He joked, laughing as Sam stumbled on the ratty carpet of the library as they passed through, not at all convinced Sam was even awake enough to listen anymore.

"Well It's about time." The familiar gruff voice sounded from behind him, startling Dean to a standstill. The abrupt stop and loud grumble behind them had Sam standing up on his own, jerking himself from exhaustion and moving fractionally away from Dean.

"Bobby," Dean sighed in marginal relief, shaking out the irrational fear before he turned around, dropping his supporting arm from Sam's waist. Suddenly, facing the seasoned hunter's observant eyes, he was tense and on alert, feeling scrutinized under his gaze - as though one glance at the two of them would spill the entire night's events to the old family friend.

Things were awkwardly silent and unbearably tense for what each boy counted as exactly five seconds before Bobby dropped his inquisitive stare and spoke, "You boys were out late."

Sam froze, suddenly wondering if they were about to get their asses beat for not telling him where they were headed or when they'd be back before they'd left. The thought had totally slipped his mind. "How was the movie?" Bobby asked a beat later, not noticing the unease coloring the youngest Winchester's face as he did.

It took Sam a moment before he realized the question could quell his fears and eventually, once it registered enough to, let out a heavy sigh he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Dude, relax, I told him this afternoon we might be goin' to the drive-in." Dean chuckled nudging Sam in the ribs, trying to hide his own tension; Bobby seemed to notice Sam's nerves then and clapped him on the shoulder laughing, "You're okay kid." he reassured as Sam let out a shaky laugh and nodded.

"You boys look dead on your feet." Bobby pointed out just as Sam was about to stutter over an apology, "Why don't you go on up and you can tell me about the movie tomorrow." His lined face pulled up into an uncharacteristically warm grin as he gave Dean a pat on the shoulder and nodded, heading off to bed himself.

Both boys blew out a long sigh simultaneously as they watched their oldest friend disappear into his room down the hall. Neither spoke until they were in the safety of their own room with the door locked behind them.

-"That was weird."

-"Did that feel off to you?"

Sam and Dean started at the same time, talking over each other as they pondered the exchange with matching expressions of curious unease. They both gave a strained chuckle and rubbed the back of their necks distractedly, not noticing the way they still mirrored the other's actions, "I felt like he knew." Dean muttered quietly a moment later, "I mean, I know he didn't, doesn't, whatever, but just…coming back from tonight…and running straight into him, it felt weird."

"I know what you mean." Sam agreed plopping down onto his back, bouncing on the mattress of his bed, "It felt like he'd be able see it on me, like he could just look at us and know what happened." Sam whispered, quieting his voice to match the darkness of the room as he stared up at the ceiling.

"But he can't." Dean whispered back a minute later, "And he doesn't know. So we should stop worrying about it and get some sleep. You were about to pass out like two seconds ago." He reminded.

Sam sighed, "Yeah alright." He consented softly, unbuttoning his jeans and lifting his hips off the bed to tug them down and kick them off. Dean did the same as he lay back on his bed and pulled his shirt off, yanking back the covers to slip underneath, shuddering against the cool air of the room. Everything was silent for about two minutes, minus the soft breathing of the tired boys, before Sam stirred gently under his sheets, huffing as he moved around.

Dean sighed, stomach twirling in anxiety, "I didn't like coming home to Bobby tonight." Dean admitted almost inaudibly, knowing his brother was still wide awake in the bed over, "It felt like it almost tainted tonight. Which was perfect." He admitted even quieter as he let out a slow, silent exhale, "It felt like I should've been…guilty about what we did, looking at him, talking to him right after… I don't know, I didn't like it." He finished, half hoping he hadn't opened his mouth and wondering where the urge to speak his thoughts had come from in the first place.

He held his breath waiting for Sam to say something, "Does…" Sam started shakily, blowing his breath out as Dean tentatively did the same, not wanting to miss anything Sam was about to say, "Does that mean…you want to stop?" Sam finally asked, the undercurrents of fear all too clear in his voice.

"What?" Dean asked whipping his head toward Sam, almost appalled at the idea, "No Sammy. That's not what I was saying…" Dean said propping himself up on his elbow to get a better view of his brother in the dim light of the stars peeking in through the crack of their curtains, "Unless that's what you want." He said timidly, trying to harden his voice but hoping to hell it wasn't true.

"Dean no, it just sounded like maybe…with us living here for now that it was…too weird to be doing this with Bobby around. I don't know. But I don't want to stop, not for anything. Its about the only thing that makes me happy now. The only time I'm not completely freaked out or worried or stressed. The only time I feel…safe." He confessed, hoping his sappy, albeit true, speech wasn't turning Dean away from the conversation.

"Me too." Dean agreed, dashing away all of Sam's fears with his whispered concurrence, "So obviously, we're not telling him." He continued a few silent moments later, "Even if it does make things a little weird, right? Cause I mean, this is our business to deal with anyway, it's not like we're hurting him by keeping it quiet." Dean reasoned, "And if we tell him, everything would go to shit, and we both agreed we need this, so…I think its best if we just, keep doing what we've been doing, right?" He asked again, feeling very unsure of himself, unsettled by the whole situation. There was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that kept tugging at him, kept telling him they were fooling themselves if they thought this would work…

"Yeah." Sam consented half-heartedly, it wasn't hard for Dean to tell he didn't like the idea of skirting around or hiding this either - like they were ashamed of what they were doing when neither was, not in the slightest. They weren't causing anyone harm by being there for one another; if society had a problem with the ways they needed each other then they could fuck off, it was pretty simple to them. But that attitude didn't coincide with this decision at all, hiding with their tails between their legs? Even if telling Bobby put a lot on the line, they could still feel it in their very core, hiding this for any reason was wrong.

But then what other choice did they have? They couldn't jeopardize their home and relationship with Bobby, or their help from Meyer, just to make themselves feel better by telling the truth. They had priorities after all, and the fragile lives Sam still carried came first, as they always would.

"G'night Dean." Sam mumbled around his pillow, ready to sleep away the rest of the uneasy end to their night as he forcefully relaxed into the mattress with a soft sigh. He heard rustling in the other bed over, but didn't open his eyes to see what Dean was doing until their were quiet footsteps on the hardwood floor.

Dean's silhouette was approaching him, bending over his bend and then tilting Sam's chin up and away from the pillow to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A rush of exhilaration radiated through him, as it always did, and he pushed forward gently, not jeopardizing the innocence of the kiss, but deepening the touch, conveying all the things he couldn't say otherwise.

"Night Sammy." Dean returned after pulling himself an inch away from his lips and brushing his nose against Sam's. He straightened up and watched his brother smile, sated and sleepy, once again relaxing into the bed and settling for the night. Dean was more than glad the night's perfection hadn't been entirely compromised as he once again sunk into his bed, this time able to truly unwind and quickly fall into a desperately needed sleep.

The next morning, Sam woke up far too early for anyone's liking really. He bolted upright from bed and landed in front of the toilet in almost the same second as he returned last night's dinner to the porcelain god before him. He coughed harshly until his stomach seized and propelled his bunched body forward to push up whatever it could, working Sam's still tired body into complete exhaustion. His throat burned with the wretched upheaval and his stomach twisted and gurgled unpleasantly afterward; Sam only had a few moments to wonder if he was done before a hand landed at the back of this neck and he heard the tap turn on in the bathroom.

"It's okay Sammy. Hang in there," Dean chanted, his words slightly slurred with lingering sleep as he simultaneously rubbed Sam's back and filled a glass of water, waiting for his brother to finish.

Sam flushed, deciding he was finished, and sat back, hating the putrid left over smell of vomit thick in the bathroom confines, making his stomach flip again. He pushed the remaining nausea away, choosing not to breath through his nose as he accepted the water and rinsed his mouth out, spitting it back into the sink.

"Thanks Dean." Sam mumbled, too tired to go through the whole process of properly brushing his teeth, so Dean simply nodded and followed Sam back out to bed.

Except Sam crawled in Dean's bed, looking up at his brother through drooping eyes to silently ask for his permission to stay, and snuggled into the covers a minute later when Dean slid in next to him. He'd think of something to explain away the position later if Bobby or Meyer happened to walk in, but right now Dean could only focus on the heat of the body next to him, pulsing off in waves, beckoning him closer. The knowledge that Sam needed him right now, it was enough to forgo logical reason.

"You didn't have to get up Dean." Sam whispered lazily into Dean's shoulder, his lips moving against the warm skin as his hands tugged the covers tighter to his chest, "That's gonna keep happening for a while, I know I might wake you up…can't help it…but you don't have to suffer with me. Not every time." Sam offered sleepily, the hint of a smile brushing along Dean's skin as his eyes closed.

"I'll be there with you," Dean ensured making it clear his words was an irreversible promise, "For every part of this Sammy." He said, ignoring the light tone of Sam's voice and letting every ounce of that truth emanate in his words, "Sufferin' or not." His voice was still rough with sleep and rumbled quietly in the darkness of the room.

Sam wouldn't admit it, if only for his brother's sake, but he hung on every word - stored them away in that secret file of _Dean_ in his head. The one that held every moment his brother ever truly opened up to him or let his guard down or made a promise like_ that, _and let his emotions come through to the surface, showing his inner vulnerability. It always meant more to Sam than he could ever truly say.

So Sam didn't say anything, just pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the jut of Dean's shoulder bone and wrapped a loose fist around his bicep under the covers, relishing the grounding contact as they slowly drifted back to sleep.

At a more appropriate time of morning, Dean arose to the smell of perfection wafting up from the kitchen. Surprised it made it to his nose through the arm pit almost encasing his face, Dean chuckled and gently pushed Sam and his strange position off of him, making sure he didn't wake him before slipping out of the room and down the stairs.

"Smells awesome in here." Dean announced, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand as he surveyed the kitchen. Bobby was shuffling eggs out of a skillet and onto a plate, and Meyer was rolling sausages in a frying pan over the stove. They looked like a married couple, working as a team to get the day started with a healthy breakfast for the kids, Dean laughed lightly and stepped further into the room, opening the fridge for some juice.

"Mornin' Dean." Bobby greeted over the sound of sizzling in Meyer's pan, "How's your brother?"

"Morning, uh he's fine. Still sleeping." Dean answered casually, "He was sick again this morning, probably around four or five, so he's still pretty wiped."

Meyer and Bobby both nodded somberly, used to the news by now but not at all alright with hearing it.

"You should bring him up some saltine crackers before he wakes up," Meyer said, "I just picked up some more, I saw we were out."

Meyer had explained to the boys when the morning sickness had started that waking up on an empty stomach was where the nausea usually came from, how 'morning sickness' got its name in the first place, so eating a little before getting up could help keep it under control.

"Yeah? Thanks Meyer, I was gonna do it today, but…I guess now I don't have to." Dean shrugged as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, Meyer just smiled to him over his shoulder before shutting off the flame on the stove.

"Done!" He announced brightly with a million-watt smile, pushing the links onto a plate and taking it to the table where the eggs and toast where waiting. Bobby laughed at his friend's animation, bumping him with his shoulder as he finished with the coffee and brought the pot over as well. Dean's mouth watered looking at the sight and he snatched the crackers quickly out of the cabinet, unable to keep the contagious happiness from the mood of the morning and the smell of the food from lighting up his face as he dashed upstairs to Sam. Dean tip toed once he was on their level, hoping he could sneak the crackers onto the nightstand and make it back down without disturbing his brother. He slowly pushed open the cracked door to their room, managing to stay silent as he padded across the room and set down the box of crackers.

He smiled softly spying over the sleeping form of his brother, taking in the odd angles at which his arms framed his head, the one leg that hung out of the covers and off the bed, the other that was on the complete opposite side of the queen size mattress: he was completely spread eagle taking up the whole bed. He huffed an endearing laugh and moved to take a step away just as his stomach let out a low, long and _loud_ gurgle of hunger.

Shit.

He cringed dramatically and watched as Sam rolled flipping one leg over himself, nearly falling off the bed. His grimace turned to a wide-eyed stare as Dean rushed down to Sam's side and steadied him with a quiet puff of laughter, "Easy Sammy," He coaxed as his brother jumped awake, startled by the commotion and the close fall as he moved back onto the bed and tried to calm his racing heart.

"Wha's goin' on?" Sam asked as urgently as he could manage as he was still half-asleep. It was kind of an adorable sight, his hair jumping out every which way, his knuckle pressed to the corner of his eye, sheets all tangled up around his legs. Dean heart did a little flip flop of as much guilt as love, feeling horrible for startling him awake the way he did.

"Nothin' Sammy, it's okay. Sorry I woke you, I'm hungry." He explained quietly, as if that would make any sense to Sam, "You can go back to sleep if you're still tired."

Sam stared at Dean, wide eyed and unmoving for what seemed like a really long time, just trying to get his brain to switch from emergency flight mode, to relaxed morning mode, and process whatever Dean was talking about at the same time. He saw his brother looking at him expectantly and realized he was waiting for an answer.

"'M up." Sam said with whatever conviction he could muster, trying to swing his legs out of bed.

"Whoa whoa, hang on." Dean quelled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, "How's your stomach doin'? Meyer bought some more crackers last night. You should have a few 'for you get up." He advised, but Sam had already spotted the box and was nibbling on a few by the time he finished speaking.

"Good idea," Sam muttered around a mouthful of crumbs, Dean smiling down at him fondly, finding the picture incredibly endearing again. Wow, _he_ was turning into the girl.

"So, we need to relax for a bit and let it settle? Or you good to get up? Hungry for some real breakfast?" Dean asked rubbing the backs of his fingers up and down Sam's arm before brushing over his chin playfully, waiting for a decision. Sam laughed quietly and pushed at Dean's hand before sitting up the rest of the way and shaking his head in an attempt to see more clearly.

"I'm hungry." Sam decided, a little surprised and hesitant at the idea of wanting to eat first thing in the morning, it hadn't happened in a while, but Dean's answering smile was enough to have Sam itching to get out of bed and downstairs, anything to make him stay happy like that. It was beautiful.

They both traipsed into the kitchen seconds later, Sam's mouth actually watering from the smells, his stomach rumbling pleasantly.

"Sam." Bobby greeted surprised, "Didn't think we'd be seein' you for another few hours." He said shooting Dean an accusatory 'what'd-you-do' look before smiling back at Sam.

"Yeah, my bad." Dean offered and sat down at the table in front of an empty plate, more than ready to dish up. This was by far one of the best mornings he could remember in a long while. Sam, Bobby, and Meyer all joined him laughing and saying something about Dean never letting Sam sleep before digging in enthusiastically.

"You're not hankering for some chocolate on those eggs or pickle toppings for you're toast Sam?" Bobby teased lightheartedly as he watched the boy dish up an entirely normal meal with the rest of them.

"Ha, ha." Sam mocked intelligibly, "Keep at it old man, you'll get what's coming." He threatened in good nature with a small smile tugging on his lips. Dean bumped Sam's shoulder with his, impressed at his brother's ability to go along with the playful teasing, especially about his cravings. Dean couldn't help but notice how far they'd really come from those first few weeks, all of them, but mostly Sam. He'd never been more proud.

Dean's own enthused grin shone brightly on his features as Sam chuckled and shook his head, nudging Dean back. They were both a little high on the mood of the sunny morning, the sound of clanking sliver ware and plates, the light conversation and effortless laughter; he could tell right away it was going to be a great day. One he'd remember.

Because they felt like a family, and he couldn't really ask for more than that.

_Tell meh what ya thought!_

_Xx_


	14. Maybe We Should go

_**Yeah, obviously I caved. Sink or Swim will be done when it's done. **_

_**Xx**_

Dean spent most of the next month mildly confused. Sam changed. Everyday he pulled away a little more, distancing himself from Dean as subtly as he could, but still, obviously doing it.

On the outside though, to a third eye, Sam was the epitome of normal, well as close to normal as he could be considering, but still, friendly to Dean and kind. He was still Sam. But behind closed doors, everything was wrong, tense and strange and Dean was really confused.

He'd tried to kiss him, to hug him, even resorted to attempt snuggling in bed because he knew Sam was a sucker for it, but every time, Sam thought of something to pull him away. The bathroom, food, a walk, fresh air, Bobby…there was always something to make Dean back off. Anytime Dean inquired his brother about the weird-ass, completely evasive behavior, he'd laugh, brushing it off like it was all just some misunderstanding, something 'in Dean's head' and smile reassuringly before walking away. Everything was normal.

But it really wasn't. Dean was missing Sam like he'd moved out or run away, but it was worse than if he actually had. That he was so physically close and so completely out of reach was a nightmare, all the restrictions to their relationship were back. Back to simple, mild-mannered brothers again. Dean didn't ever think he'd feel so unsatisfied with the thought, but he really missed Sam.

"Dean," Bobby called a second time from the kitchen doorway, trying to get his attention. Dean snapped from his thoughts and jerked his head toward the sound, "Meyer an' I are goin' for groceries," Dean nodded distractedly and turned away again, "You alright kid, you were pretty lost in your head just now." Dean nodded once more, but didn't turn to face Bobby. "You sure, you're not bein' very convincin'-" Bobby persisted before Dean interrupted him.

"Bobby please, I'm okay. Just not a good day, no big deal." Dean said, turning this time to give his friend the most reassuring grin he could manage. His friend still looked concerned but dropped it with a quick nod of his head as he backed away from the kitchen and left.

Dean spent an hour in the kitchen, in silence and alone, running through every possible thing he may have done wrong that could've caused Sam to change his mind about them. He came up blank every time.

Just as Dean had about had enough of his depressing, circling thoughts and decided to get up, a groggy-looking Sam clumsily made his way down the stairs, startling him from his head anyway. Dean'd had half a mind to try and avoid him today, unsure if he could deal with anymore of this new Sam, but now he was trapped and forced himself to stand from his chair, took a deep breath and moved to greet his brother.

"Have a nice nap?" He asked as casually as he could, making sure he kept a good distance from Sam as they made their way back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I feel a lot better. Finally rested, my stomachs been slowly settling all day, think I'm all right to eat now." Sam announced as he pulled up the sleeves of his majorly oversized sweatshirt and yanked open the fridge. Dean sat in stony silence as Sam talked on about his day, his latest book, how Bobby was doing on his latest car, if he'd found a hunt, whatever else came to mind, apparently just trying to keep the quiet away as he prepared his sandwich, not allowing an inch for Dean to bring up their own current issues. But Dean had given up trying to understand what was happening anyway, trying to talk about anything deeper than the weather hadn't gotten him anywhere so far, so he grunted and 'hm'-ed when it was appropriate but stayed silent otherwise.

It just seemed so pointless now. He'd come to the conclusion that Sam had changed his mind and was slowly, gently trying to put his decision into action, avoiding any awkward conversation that could jeopardize their brotherly relationship. Even though in a way, this 'subtle' transition was worse. Dean just wanted to know, straight up, what was going on in Sam's head, even if he knew it was a lost cause trying to figure it out.

So the rest of the day passed uneventfully; the warm, bright sun mocking Dean's foul mood the whole time. Sam read his book, surfed the Internet, watched TV and went to bed, trying to keep Dean by his side throughout the day but still avoiding any physical contact. It made Dean crazy.

When night rolled around. Sam made a point to stay in his bed, alone, as he had every other night the past month, and Dean had long since stopped trying to kiss him goodnight or lay with him a few hours, so they both fell asleep alone and in silence. Apparently how Sam wanted things now.

Another few days passed and Dean had finally had enough.

"Sam what the hell is this?" He exploded, whipping around towards his brother who was, once again, reading in the living room alone. Dean was thankful Bobby and Meyer were out again, leaving them a few hours to themselves in the house.

Sam startled, sitting up in the reclining chair and put the book down on the coffee table, his expression genuinely confused, "What…my book?" He asked quietly, voice pitched so high Dean almost lost all his fight. Almost.

"No not your…_you_, Sam! What are you doing, with us? Why won't you let me touch you, what the hell happened in the past month that made me suddenly so fucking repulsive. You pull away or find some excuse to run any time I try to get close to you. I mean what is that, man? If you wanted to stop this whole thing, _talking_ to me about it would've been nice." Dean said, his voice gradually lowering to level itself out as he finished. Sam had the decency to at least look a little guilty, but also surprised, like he didn't think Dean would've brought it up. That just fueled his brother's anger all over again.

"Dean, I-" Sam started, shaking his head as he obviously didn't know what to say, "I'm sorry-" He started again and began to stand.

"No Sam, stay there." Dean interrupted pulling his hand up in motion to stop him, "And don't apologize either. Just, please, explain to me what's been going on." He pleaded, voice betraying the honest desperation he felt to know that answer, "Tell me what you want. Why this all started."

Sam was quiet, looking at the floor through his entwined hands resting on his knees. Dean threw his hands up in exasperation and turned to walk away before thinking better of it and facing Sam again, "Is it Bobby? Do you not want to do this with him around? Cause I can find a job, save up money, and get us a place to ourselves. I'll do it if that's what…" Dean trailed off, watching Sam's face betray more guilt, as that apparently wasn't the reason, "Or is it me?" He asked quietly, knowing in the pit of his heart that had to be the answer. What else could it be?

Sam opened his mouth to say something, his expression anguished, but he snapped it shut, shaking his head again and looking back to the ground. He rubbed his forehead tiredly and closed his eyes in frustration.

"Okay, Sam," Dean agreed lowly, hot tears springing to his eyes, "All you had to do was say the word and I would've stopped trying a long time ago." He nodded, a slow tear dragging itself down his cheek as he turned and walked away, escaping to the bathroom for some quiet relief. He needed to collect himself before he broke down in front of Sam and made him feel even worse.

The door clicked quietly behind him and immediately his face crumpled as he plopped down to the floor, tugging his hands angrily through his short spikes.

A big part of him wanted to be angry at Sam, he should've said something sooner – Dean felt like an idiot chasing Sam for a month when all he'd apparently wanted to do was stop – but another part knew if the roles were reversed he might've done the same thing. Because how do you break up with your _brother_, really?

So Dean wasn't mad, but even all the reasoning in the world couldn't stop the ache, the undeniable sign that his battered heart was breaking. He felt disgusting for still wanting his brother when obviously he thought it was wrong, he felt enraged that he might've been forcing Sam into something he didn't want to do all along, but above all he felt rejected, alone, and lost.

And that was no way to go through this pregnancy when his brother needed him; he had to pull himself together. He'd practiced the mask for years, it shouldn't be too hard to wipe away the tears and slip it back into place. He could be Sam's brother again, _only_ his brother.

Dean took a deep breath, steadying himself, preparing to go face Sam as if nothing had gone wrong. He didn't bother checking himself in the mirror, he knew he'd lose all fight again if he saw proof of the pathetic tears there, but he did smooth out his clothes, take another breath and twist the knob to let himself out of the confining bathroom.

He listened in the hall for a minute to see if he could hear signs of Sam anywhere in the house, but all was quiet, so he decided his best bet was to check upstairs in their room. Dean trudged up the steps slowly, concentrating on his even breaths, his calm façade, he needed to keep it in place if he was to pull this off.

He made his way silently down the corridor, and gradually pushed open the door to peer in, in case it happened that Sam had fallen asleep, he didn't want to disturb him.

But what he saw when the door finally opened was not Sam asleep, and nothing at all close to what he expected.

Sam was standing in front of the waist high mirror above the dresser, his oversized shirt pulled up under his arms and his hands were running over his protruding belly, tears silently running down his cheeks.

"Sam." Dean gasped out quietly from the doorway, making his presence finally known.

"Dean!" Sam cried in violent surprise, yanking his shirt back down and quickly scrubbing across his face, "What the hell! Knock, man." He ordered sternly, apparently embarrassed and very obviously trying to hide his shock behind anger.

"Sam." Dean said again, talking a shaky step toward his brother, shaking his head in astonishment, "Why didn't you show me this before?" He asked, wanting to smile at the blatant proof that his children were growing but too concerned and angry at the moment to do it.

"Show you what?" Sam snarled quietly, his eyes dropping to the ground.

"What do you mean 'what'?" Dean asked, his anger too showing through his voice, "This," He said stepping close enough to put his hands on Sam's stomach, "You."

Sam made a quick move to step out of his brother's reach, Dean recoiling from the action with stricken agony in his eyes, suddenly reminded of where he stood once again. Touching Sam was off limits. He'd forgotten.

Dean felt his hard mask glide back into place, emotions steeling, and he lifted his guarded eyes to Sam's worried gaze. It puzzled Dean for a moment as to why Sam would feel worried now, it wasn't like he'd hurt him, but decided not to acknowledge it as he pressed on.

"Sam I understand if you want to stop doing…what we've been doing. Or haven't been doing, really, but, whatever. If you don't want it, you _know_ I won't question you for a second. I would never push you into doing something you didn't want, I'm still your brother and I'd still protect you with my life." Dean ensured keeping as little emotion in his voice as possible, "But those are still my kids, and I deserve to see stuff like this. To know how they're doing." He reprimanded, his voice as hard as his eyes that he kept glued to the ground.

It was silent for too long, and Dean almost stole a glance at Sam but then his brother spoke and stopped him, "You're-" He paused sucking in a sharp breath, "You're not disgusted?" Dean did snap his head up then, meeting Sam's baffled eyes with his own.

"_What_?" Dean asked incredulously, "Disgusted? Sam, what are you talking about?"

"Me! I'm fat now, the babies are showing." Sam pointed out like the answer should've been completely obvious, "Everything's not coming crashing down on you? You're not finally realizing that you're having kids with your _brother_? You're not turning tail and running."

"_No_ Sam, what in the hell – where is all this coming from? Why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Sam asked loudly, "Look at me!" He gestured to his stomach.

"I _am_-" Dean started raising his voice to match his brother's but stopping when something dawned on him. "Wait, is this what the whole month has been about. You're getting bigger, still thinking I'd leave as soon as I saw this so you pulled away?"

"_Yes_ Dean." Sam said desperately, "I was so sure…" He shook his head, "I know you told me you wouldn't leave, but I kept thinking if I were in your position and kept having all these different signs of proof real thrown in my face every day, that if anything, this would be the proverbial straw. This would be the last thing my head could handle before everything came crashing down, reality finally set in and I ran." Sam's voice cracked as he explained, tears slowly forming in his glassy eyes, "And I just couldn't help but expect the same from you. I thought if I pulled away from that…side of our relationship, that you'd get used to me as just a brother again and then when you saw me, like this, you wouldn't freak out as bad, or wouldn't see me as disgusting, I don't know. Obviously I wasn't thinking straight because you're not doing any of that, but I just…didn't wanna lose you. I couldn't lose you, man, you-"

"Sammy hey, come on. Sit down." Dean interrupted brushing away the various tears that had slipped down his brother's face as they took a seat on one of the beds. "It's okay little brother, everything's alright." He soothed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he tucked Sam down under his chin.

Sam still wanted him, and damn his heart would not stop racing at the thought, "I'm not going anywhere." He pressed a kiss into Sam's locks as he ran a hand down his brother's shoulder, along his side to rest on his stomach.

"You know you would've had to show me this at our next check up. It's in a week, what were you plannin' on doin' then? You couldn't hide this from me forever." Dean whispered, tilting Sam's head back to look in his eyes.

"I just didn't want to lose you." Sam repeated, "I panicked. Didn't know what to do." Sam admitted in a quiet, broken voice, his eyes conveying the sincerity in his words, "I've been going insane ever since they started really showing, this whole time I just wanted to be with you but I was so scared Dean. I was so fucking scared," He admitted ducking his head again. Dean closed his eyes for a moment and rested his forehead against Sam's before nodding gently.

"I understand." He breathed, "But God I've missed you." He whispered a moment later, bringing his hand up to cup Sam's cheek, running his thumb against the soft, still damp skin.

Sam surged forward suddenly and collided against Dean's lips, nipping and biting at the soft flesh aggressively, answering and relaying back his brother's admission to him with the force of his passion. His hands ripped at Dean's shirt, tugging him closer as he struggled to get it off.

"Missed you baby." He breathed into Dean's mouth after tossing the shirt to the floor, "You…have no idea." Sam's gravel voice rumbled as he lunged forward again, toppling them backwards to lay flat on Dean.

"Uhh," He groaned immediately slipping between Dean's spreading legs and grinding himself down into his groin, feeling the hard line of his brother's arousal press into his own. "Fuck Dean, god damn I can't believe…" He trailed off quietly, panting as the intense pleasure continued to grow, smoldering fire creeping through his veins, twisting the pit of his stomach into knots.

"Shh, don't worry Sammy," Dean breathed back, thrusting up into Sam's cock, his hands fumbling with the button of his jeans, "M'not going anywhere. Could never leave you." He whispered, flipping them over in a swift but gentle move, straddling Sam's lap as he finally undid the jeans, "So don't ever pull that shit again." He growled, tugging roughly at Sam's jeans to emphasize the seriousness of his words. Sam looked dazedly up at Dean with wide, lust blown eyes, nodding at the words.

Dean's hands ran up over Sam's hips and caught on his shirt, pushing it up to expose his belly again, "And don't ever hide anything like this from me again either." He ordered, his words serious but his voice softer as he leaned down and pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to the stretched skin, "Told you I'd be here for every step, every single second of this." He breathed against the wet skin, feeling Sam shiver under him, trying to rock up into Dean again, "Please let me." Dean finished looking up to Sam, sadness in his eyes as he kissed him again.

Sam stilled and sighed under him, bringing a hand up to brush through Dean's hair, "M'sorry Dean. M'so sorry, it won't happen again I swear." He vowed, pulling Dean up to slant their mouths together once more, conveying every ounce of that truth through his touch, through the intensity buzzing between them in the kiss. "I love you." He promised, running his hands down Dean's face and chest dropping down to the hem of his own shirt, tugging it up to pull it off and toss it over the bed.

"You too Sammy," Dean returned as he went back down to Sam's belly, running his hands over the soft skin, reveling in the idea that his children were in there, "So fucking beautiful, _God_." Dean groaned kissing his stomach again, making Sam shut his eyes tightly against the swell of emotion tightening his chest. He sighed and relaxed, getting his bearings again as Dean began pulling his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, off his feet and to the floor. His own followed soon after.

They lay against each other, writhing into the other's bare body, their sweat-slick skin sliding frictionless against the other's. Dean's lips and tongue explored every inch of Sam, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake.

His tongue skipped Sam's groin though, leaving his unsatisfied cock unattended, and going straight down to his thigh, tonguing the inside and back of his knee, drinking down the taste of his salty skin, making Sam shudder and moan breathlessly beneath him.

He gradually made his way back up Sam's wide spread legs - Sam's begging and urging doing a lot to speed him on - and tongued the inner crease of his thigh and hip, sucking on the sensitive, paper-thin skin.

"Ah _fuck_ Dean, please baby…please, stop teasing me. Stop teasing, M'gonna fuckin' pass out." Sam huffed, his arms above his head gripping the head board with white knuckles, his arms flexing and relaxing as his body shook and jerked involuntarily under Dean's exploring mouth.

"Okay Sammy, just hang on baby. I'm gonna try somethin' alright?" Sam was so lost in his own desperation and desire he gave nothing more than a half nod of consent and begged, "Shit, whatever you want Dean, just give me _something_."

So Dean hooked an arm under Sam's knee and pushed his leg up and over to his side, careful not to put too much pressure on his stomach, then propped his other leg up in the same position, opening him up to him. Sam looked a little uneasy, being so prone and vulnerable and exposed in the position, but then Dean kissed his knee and whispered, "You're beautiful baby," every ounce of that truth weighing in his words and Sam relaxed with a shaky sigh. Dean rubbed Sam's thigh soothingly as he pulled his brother's hips up and knelt down, licking the junction of his thigh and hip again, making Sam groan and gasp beneath him.

Slowly he moved further down licking a stripe up his balls to his dick, sucking the crown into his mouth and tugging.

"Oh fuck!" Sam yelled lowly, clutching the sheets in his tight knit fists, "Uhhh Dean." He moaned loudly, jerking up into Dean's mouth. He pulled away after a few seconds, much to Sam's dismay, and looked up at his lover with wide eyes, asking one last time for his trust.

Sam nodded almost imperceptibly but Dean took his permission and traveled down once again as he pulled Sam's hips higher and propped him up on his arms, gliding his lips down to his tight, virgin hole.

He kissed the puckered skin before tentatively dipping his tongue out to taste, licking a wet stripe of heat over the hole and up to his balls. Sam jumped and stuttered at the new sensation, his legs pushing up off the bed and helping Dean tilt up his hips for more access – any sense of embarrassment or modesty went right out the window.

"Oh my…oh my God Dean." Sam hissed and moaned, squirming and pushing back into Dean's tongue which was now putting light pressure against his entrance, dipping inside and slowly stretching him open.

Sam grabbed his dick out of pure instinct and began tugging and twisting, speeding along the decent of his orgasm; his groans and gasps growing louder and higher pitched, more desperate and gratified every second. Dean was loving it.

He gripped a tighter hold of Sam's gyrating hips as his tongue gave a hard push in and started pumping in and out, his finger slipping in to join it a moment later.

Sam hissed at the added stretch and Dean slowed down, but didn't remove anything, before slowly beginning his search for the place inside Sam that would surely throw him off the edge.

"Faster Dean, I'm okay. M'okay," He mumbled slitting open his eyes to peer down at Dean's head, moaning lowly at the sight, "Feels so fucking amazing baby, you feel so amazing." He whispered just as Dean's finger delved in deep enough to twist and find that spot, rubbing up right against it and immediately beginning to gently massage. "AH!" Sam cried and gasped in a huge breath as he arched up off the bed, tugging on the headboard, unsure if he was doing it to ground himself or pull away from new, entirely overwhelming stimulation.

A second later though he was pushing against the wood, down into Dean's mouth, deciding he needed more, "Harder Dean, _fuck_." He urged breathily and Dean pulled out his tongue, roughly pushed a second finger in with the first and stabbed into Sam's prostate, pushing up against the organ as he lifted himself to watch Sam come apart.

"Oh shit…fuck," Sam panted harshly, "Ahh, _Dean_!" He screamed, finally releasing and coming hard all over his chest, shooting up across his shoulders and chin as his body jolted and relaxed several times, his groans and wheezing breaths eventually slowing as he came down.

Dean slowly pulled his drying fingers from Sam's hole, mindful of the friction so as to not hurt him. Sam sucked in a deeper breath than his others as Dean pulled out of him but didn't seem to be in any pain, so Dean laid down next to him, tugging a couple of tissues off the night stand and gently wiping up Sam's chest.

"Damn you shot hard," He muttered quietly, laughing as he wiped the last remnants off Sam's cheek. Sam smiled with him and finally opened his eyes, blowing out one last heavy breath.

"That was fuckin' incredible." Sam said quietly, running a hand down Dean's arm and over his taut stomach muscles, gradually moving lower to take care of him in return when he stopped, hearing approaching footsteps outside their door.

Then a quiet knock. They both froze, turning wide eyes toward the sound.

"Come on out boys." Bobby's voice sounded on the other side, "We need to have a talk." Dean immediately fell back into the bed throwing a hand over his eyes as footsteps retreated from their room and they were left in stunned silence.

"Shit." Dean hissed before rolling out of bed, "Come on Sammy," Dean coaxed his younger brother, still stock-still frozen in the bed, to get up.

"Come on get dressed." Dean tapped at his foot as he pulled on his shirt, finally getting Sam to look at him and nod shakily in agreement, rolling out of bed himself. Dean was ready with his boxers and handed them to Sam as his brother stood, pulling them up and on. Dean waited patiently for Sam to finish before following him to their door.

Sam was about to open it when Dean laid a hand down on his, stopping him for a moment, "Sammy listen to me," He started; Sam turned to face him with wide, scared eyes as he complied, "What were doing is not wrong, okay? The world can look at it however the hell they want but were not hurting anyone and were not hurting each other. We're…we're helping each other, _loving_ each other. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. No matter what they say out there don't forget that, alright?" Dean asked, gripping Sam's shoulder tightly to enforce his words.

Sam crumbled the second his brother was done and crashed into Dean's arms, his body obviously shaking as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and nodded into the crook of his shoulder.

"I won't." He whispered. Dean stroked a hand down the back of Sam's head, rubbing the tensed tendons in his neck.

"No matter what happens, if he wants us to move out or says anything to you that makes _me_ want to move out…I'll take care of us. You don't have to worry about that, okay. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we're alright." He promised as his hands came down onto Sam's stomach, caressing the bump lightly in reassurance.

"I know you will. I will too. We'll be okay." Sam nodded again and pulled back, sniffing and blinking back tears, "Damn fuckin' hormones. Jesus." He muttered as he pulled open the door and they walked out, down into the study where Bobby and Meyer were waiting.

Bobby lifted his head from where it was resting in his hands as he heard the boys approaching; he looked weary and worn thin, the lines in his face ever more prominent.

"Look, if you're about to spill some speech about how wrong what were doing is or how disgusted you are about it, save it. If you want us gone we'll go but please if you're about to lecture…just don't. We don't have to turn this into some big falling out and Sam doesn't need any added stress."

"So it's true." Bobby stated looking from Sam to Dean and back again, "I was hopin'…maybe what we heard, that there was some other explanation for it." He said shaking his head. Sam at least had the decency to blush at the mention of 'what they'd heard' but Dean kept his gaze stony and emotionless, straightening up to face whatever else Bobby would say head on.

It was quiet for a long time, long enough to make Sam and Dean's skin crawl uncomfortably, just waiting for the inevitable blow. Bobby was going to politely ask them to leave, or freak the hell out and start yelling. The boys were frozen still in their wait for it, as was Meyer, who was sitting silently in the corner, obviously feeling a lot out of his element and not at all sure if he should even be there. Dean was lost watching him fidget and grimace every once in a while, almost getting out of his chair several times and then rethinking it a moment later, locked down in the intensity of the moment.

When Bobby finally spoke, Dean almost jumped, abruptly startled from his wandering gaze and straying, beyond stressed thoughts.

"And this is…" Bobby grimaced gesturing between the two boys, "Consensual?" He asked quietly, still screwing up his face as if in pain.

Dean recoiled with a disgusted look on his face, "Bobby, of course." He said still looking incredulous, "Who the fuck do you think I am? I'm not forcing Sam into anything." Dean snarled, not taking the suggestion in the question very well. The idea made him sick.

"I never said you…" Bobby's words died on his tongue and he trailed off, shaking his head again, looking simply too tired to finish his sentence or process what he'd learned.

"Bobby I know this is a lot to take in," Sam spoke up, taking a tentative step toward their distraught friend, "And I'm sorry that you found out, especially like that," Sam's face colored again and his head ducked in shame, "We never meant to burden you with this, you're already doing so much for us, we didn't want you to know. And we're sorry if we messed up our privilege to stay here or put you in any awkward position, like Dean said if you want us gone we'll go." He offered helplessly, searching for the right words to make this better.

Bobby sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "You boys aint got no place to go, I'm not about to kick you out." He reasoned distractedly.

"Don't do us any favors." Dean snapped, "We can take care of ourselves just fine."

Bobby jerked his head up to look Dean in the eye, "I'm well aware. You still aint goin' anywhere so drop it." He replied just as shortly.

Dean huffed a sigh and backed down, satisfied with that answer and waited for Bobby to continue.

"So, what started this whole – why are you boys…?" Bobby began asking, but decidedly thought better of it before he finished his question, realizing he really didn't want the details of it.

"Never mind, I'm not even gonna pretend to understand what you boys are thinkin' doin' this, or why…I don't wanna know. But I suppose you aint hurtin' anyone…" Bobby sighed and shook his head again, "Givin' me some serious gray hair but I guess I'll live," He added more quietly, "So if this is…gonna keep happenin' under my roof," Bobby gave a slight shudder and shoulder-role at the thought, "Please, keep it under my radar. Make sure I don't see it…or hear it, for that matter. And I think then we can all move past this." He concluded, his expression contradicting his words; the man had never looked more unsettled or uncomfortable in his life.

"Bobby," Sam spoke softly, the vague suggestion of tears in his eyes, "We're doing this because we love each other. And if you find it so repulsive, please just ask us to go. Id' rather leave than live with someone who doesn't accept us."

Bobby thawed seeing the deep hurt in the youngest Winchester's solemn eyes and sighed again, looking apologetic, "Sam, I-I don't find you _boys_ repulsive. I…I just don't understand what you're doing with each other, but that's not my business anyway. It's, I guess it'll just take me some time to…come to terms and all that." Bobby nodded trying to look reassuring, "You boys have been like my own since you were born, you have to understand when I look at ya, I see all those years you boys were growing up, bein' _brothers_. This is just…a lot to process." He shrugged and looked down at the dusty rug, his eyes distant and nostalgic.

"We understand that Bobby. And we're sorry for it." Dean offered before grabbing Sam's arm and excusing them, thinking everyone probably could use a break from the conversation about now. Specifically Sam.

They went out back into the junk yard and wandered until they found an old Pontiac Fiero, settling into the worn seats up front and looking out through the hole where there was no windshield to watch the sun set over the hills in the horizon. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and gently wiped under his eyes where a few rogue tears had slipped, smiling over his reassurance.

"What do you want to do?" Dean asked gently, keeping his voice calm and neutral but making sure the message was clear that he wasn't talking about right now.

Sam looked over at him coolly, meeting his steady gaze eye for eye, "He doesn't really want us here Dean." Sam told him with every ounce of confidence that it was the truth, "I want to get jobs, save up and find our own place. Like I said I can't live with someone who doesn't accept us. It was different when he didn't know, I could deal with that but this..." He whispered, trailing off and looking away.

Dean was quiet for a while, wondering if he should fight the decision or humor his brother, going through the list of pros and cons in his head.

"Sam, maybe we should give it a few weeks before we make that decision. I mean…the old man just found out, I can't blame him for being a little spooked. All things considered I think he took it pretty well. And I think maybe we should give him a chance before we hit the road." Dean suggested softly, hoping not to set his brother off as he knew his hormones we're steadily becoming more and more powerful over his moods.

Sam sighed still looking out at the orange-yellow sky, he blinked a few times and then turned to his brother, "You really think he'll come around?" He asked nearly inaudibly, the sheer level of hope in his voice startling Dean and twisting his heart into knots.

"Yeah man, I do." Dean nodded, smiling through the quick threat of tears, sighing to get a reign on his rogue emotions.

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded back, "Okay. But if he doesn't…I won't be able handle it. We'd leave then, right?"

"Yeah Sam, of course." Sam was silent for a moment, thinking.

"What about Meyer?"

"If he's not okay with it, fuck him, we'll do this on our own and be just fine." Dean said simply, trying to give off vibes of strength and sureness. This would work out, it had to.

Sam gaze was contemplative as he stared into the dashboard for a few silent minutes.

"I still think we should get jobs. We're gonna need money regardless of whether we move out or not." Sam pointed out, his voice tinged with fear again. They had two babies on the way…and shit did that throw them both back into a tail spin.

Dean agreed as calmly as he could manage and took Sam's hand, schooling his features, "I'll start looking tomorrow. But I don't know if you should work Sammy, you need rest. And besides you're gonna start really showing soon." Dean tried to reason as gently as possible, knowing how sensitive the subject of weight gain was for his brother.

Sam just sighed and dropped his head, clearly feeling useless again, "Yeah, no one's gonna want a whale working for them."

"Sam you know that's not what I meant."

Sam nodded and straightened up in his seat, shaking his head to clear it and try to be reasonable, "Yeah I know. And you're right. I won't be able to work long enough for it to matter anyway." He resigned trying to keep his brave face in place as he turned to Dean and gave him a small smile. Dean saw right through it.

"We're really gonna be okay Sam. Hear me when I say that. Everything will work out."

Sam nodded and squeezed Dean's hand, hoping beyond hope his brother was right.

_**Well, tell me what ya thought.**_


	15. Conspiracy Theory

_I'm gonna apologize now for any and every mistake I know is in here, because it's 3 am and I haven't read this all the way through in one sitting, so I know it's gonna be shit. But really I just want it out there so I can keep going. Hope it's still readable. We'll see _

_And a second note, be warned that this is kind of an intense chapter at some points – the main points really – so if you're really squeamish or whatever, just… I don't know, watch out cause maybe you won't like it. A lot of hurt!scared!nervous!Sam and protective!big brother!comforting!Dean in a medical procedure. _

_Anyway, read it and tell me what you thought! Love_

_Xx_

Things settled as Sam and Dean watched the sun disappear behind the horizon. They sat out there, drawing comfort and safety and calm from each other until the sky turned black and the stars came out.

That's when they heard footsteps approaching their little hide out in the run down Fiero, snapping both of them from their thoughts as they jerked their heads around in search for the noise.

"Boys." A voice called from the darkness: Meyer. He came around into view a moment later and approached the car, kneeling down to peer through the open space where the passenger window would've been. Both boys visibly relaxed the moment they realized there was no potential threat, but went back on defense a moment later as neither was sure where they stood with the man yet.

"Hey Meyer." Sam greeted politely, quietly.

Meyer nodded to him and timidly rested his elbows on the frame of the window, leaning closer, "Just came to make sure you were alright." The doctor offered looking back and forth between the brothers. They were both a little startled at the prospect.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah we're alright." Dean nodded, mildly skeptical.

"Alright good." Meyer nodded and turned to Sam, "Like your…like Dean said," He fumbled, obviously avoiding the word 'brother', "You don't need any added stress Sam, so just relax. Try not to worry about this whole thing, Bobby will come around soon enough." The doctor nodded confidently, patting Sam on the shoulder.

Sam looked up at Meyer with nothing short of shock clear on his face, "So…_you're_, okay with this?" He asked, his voice rising to make clear his suspicion and disbelief.

"Well, I mean, I'm not gonna tell you I completely support this…relationship, but I won't condemn it either. I know you boys, and I know you have your heads on straight, so, if this is…what you need right now, who am I to tell you it's wrong?" The doctor said, shrugging nonchalantly.

Dean shook his head to clear it, "If you're so calm about all this, why'd you look like you were about to turn tail and run in there?" He asked jerking his chin toward the house.

Meyer looked back to see where Dean had indicated, "Right well, Bobby…he uh, intimidates me. I was afraid I'd have to step between him and you boys if things took a turn for the south." He grimaced, tilting his head as he shrugged again.

Dean snorted at the admission and shook his head, "I can't believe you were ever a hunter." He mumbled ducking his head.

"A hunter?" Meyer asked, taking his turn to chuckle lightly, "Oh no, not me. I was, am, a doctor _for_ hunters. And I do my fair amount of research, search out cases for other hunters to take care of. But, I've never done it myself."

"Oh," Dean nodded considering that, "Explains a lot."

Sam hit him in the arm, sniggering his disapproval as he shook his head at his brother. Meyer just huffed another laugh and shrugged as he stood up.

"Well then, I'll leave you two be. I'm off to bed, don't forget we have a check up in a few days." He reminded, patting the metal frame of the car as he took a few steps away.

"Yeah I remember." Sam said.

"Good, now don't stay out here too long. It's not so warm out anymore." He pointed at the boys, making sure he was heard.

Dean scoffed and shook his head again, "Good night doc."

"Night boys." And with that, Meyer disappeared back into the dark house, leaving the boys to ponder over the strange encounter with the doctor in silence.

"I…kind of can't believe he was so cool about it." Sam mumbled looking into his lap with wonder in his eyes.

"Yeah, seriously. That was weird." Dean returned looking up at the scattered sparkling lights in the sky.

"But good. I'm glad at least one of them's with us. Maybe it'll help make Bobby okay again." Sam suggested, "I don't want this to ruin anything, he's been too good to us for too long. Like family, I don't wanna lose that."

"I know Sammy." Dean agreed, considering a moment, "But I don't think it will, like you said he's been close to us for too long. He'll be okay, even if it takes a little time, eventually it'll all work out." Dean reassured, grabbing Sam's shoulder and squeezing, kneading the muscles gently.

Sam nodded his hopeful settlement, "Yeah, alright."

The boys stayed out for another hour before turning into bed - the same bed - and snuggling under the covers to catch a full night's of restful sleep for the first time in over a month.

The next morning was, the least to say, awkward. Not at all surprisingly, but nevertheless, unbearably uncomfortable.

Bobby was in the kitchen cooking, Meyer was setting the table and Sam and Dean were waiting for their breakfast, everyone playing the same roles they'd been playing since the routine had ever been set in Bobby's house – but everything had changed so drastically it was hard to believe the setting had ever felt normal.

"So, how'd you boys sleep?" Meyer asked offhandedly as he poured himself a glass of juice after everyone had taken their seats. The question was nothing to get caught on, but Bobby froze in his place as the incorporated implications obviously ran through his mind.

Dean flicked his eyes over to their old friend, his gaze immediately heating with anger as he took in Bobby's reaction, pausing before his answer.

"Perfect." Dean said finally directing his stare back at Meyer, choosing to take the high road and not retort with any of the smart-ass remarks his instincts begged him to use.

It was tense and silent for too long before Dean spoke up again.

"Where's the paper?" The older Winchester bit out as he looked up at Bobby.

Bobby's gaze glanced off Dean a few times before landing solidly on him and flickering to the front door, "Haven't brought it in yet." He answered just as gruffly.

Dean nodded and dropped his fork, "Thanks for breakfast," He managed as calmly as he could before standing, "I'm gonna go see what it's got to offer, huh." He said directing his words only at his brother as he looked down at Sam, his expression immediately softening as he gripped his shoulder and squeezed, walking out a second later.

Bobby kept eating, trying hard to keep any trace of a grimace off his face but failing pretty miserably as he pointedly ignored the exchange between the boys. Meyer, on the other hand, was looking at Sam curiously after having watched Dean leave.

"What's he talking about, never once seen him with the paper." The doctor asked and Sam mentally sighed in relief as he realized that curious look hadn't been leading up to some question about his and Dean's relationship. With the mouth on that man, no one could ever be sure.

"He's looking for a job." Sam answered quietly, returning his attention to his breakfast.

That got Bobby's attention, "What's he lookin' for a job for? I told you boys you ain't going anywhere, ya don't need a job to go off and buy your own place. You're too young, it's unnecessary, and it's a waist of damn money." Bobby ground out, giving Sam a sharp glare.

Sam shrunk minutely under the intensity of that stare and the loud words but didn't look away from their old friend, "I know that Bobby. But we need money regardless. We can't live off of you forever, and I know your 'income' isn't gonna support four people, when the time comes." Sam explained quietly, still mildly uncomfortable ever talking about the babies with anyone but Dean.

Bobby's face softened as he backed down; obviously on-edge and worn-out, his tempers were high, and Sam couldn't really blame him for jumping to conclusions.

"Oh, alright then." Bobby relented, "Just, make sure he don't overwork himself. Knowing that kid, he'll run himself into the ground making sure you boys are taken care of…just needs to know I'm here too. He don't gotta handle it all on his own." He muttered softly, resuming his attention to his food.

"I know Bobby." Sam returned whole-heartedly, tentatively placing a hand on Bobby's shoulder, "And we'd never be able to thank you enough for that. For everything." Sam nodded, his face slipping into an emotionless mask as he stood and pat his friends shoulder before slipping off.

"Breakfast was great. Thanks guys." Sam said grabbing his plate and Dean's from the table and heading for the sink to clean up.

"Sam you don't have to do that," Meyer called loudly, breaking the quiet sensitivity of the moment, "I'll take care of it when I'm done."

"Stop doc, I can do it. You're doing too much already." Sam replied, shoving a few dishes in the dishwasher, "It's not like I'm some invalid anyway, its dishes for Christ's sake." He finished irritably but under his breath, tired of being coddled and fawned over. He was fine and perfectly capable of everything he'd been able to do before-

Sam's thoughts were blatantly interrupted as a sharp, tugging pain sliced through his lower abdomen, freezing him to the spot as he sucked in a surprised breath. Suddenly he doubled over, clutching his stomach and the counter for support as the wind was knocked out of him and the pain intensified.

One half-second later, it was gone. Sam took a deep breath and slowly straightened up, apprehensive and cautious of his movements, wondering if whatever happened had been some fluke or if something was really wrong and another pain was on its way.

He stayed there, unmoving and silent for at least a few minutes, halfway wondering if he'd just imagined the pain all together, as now he felt completely fine.

Sam took another breath and rubbed his belly, looking down at the small, but now clearly visible bump, praying whatever had just happened hadn't meant anything serious. He returned to the dishes, choosing for the moment to forgo telling anyone and worrying them with something so minor. Because it had been nothing, it _had_ to have been nothing.

By the end of the day, Dean had found three ads in the paper for jobs that he'd be qualified for and Sam had all but forgotten his incident in the kitchen – Bobby hadn't caused them any more trouble throughout the day and Meyer had still been nothing but supportive, so all in all both boys were pretty damn happy, finding little to complain about on the quiet evening.

Night was storming in fast as they settled in on the couch, watching TV in the living room. Bobby and Meyer had departed with their 'goodnight's and headed up to their rooms, leaving the boys to themselves for the remainder of the night.

"So what were the ads for?" Sam asked as a commercial came on, glad to finally have a chance to talk to his brother without any ears or eyes on them, "Did you get to set up any interviews?"

It took Dean a second to understand what Sam was talking after he ripped his focus away from the TV, but soon he put it together and answered, "Oh right. Um, yeah, one ad was for a construction gig, which is the one I want and most likely the one that pays best. Another was for a hardware store, which wouldn't be too bad either, and another… for a uh, an ice cream shop in the mall." Dean admitted reluctantly, though offhandedly, obviously trying to make it sound like the prospect of working in an ice cream, _at the mall_, was not at all threatening for his manhood or pride. And Sam couldn't be blamed for the laugh that bubbled out at the mental picture that provided.

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up geek boy. You'll be jealous when you see me workin' my pink visor and apron, scoopin' out cones for all the girls. I'll get a fan base started if I work there, just wait." Dean assured, making Sam laugh harder.

"Oh yeah, 'Dean the mean, ice cream machine'." Sam laughed shaking his head, "You'll be bringing in _all_ the ladies with that one." He kept teasing.

Dean hit him in the arm but couldn't help laughing with him: the idea of him in an ice cream shop or at the mall was kind of ridiculous.

"I'm not working there man, bet the pays shit anyway. I'm gonna get that construction gig." Dean said determinedly.

"I don't know, that pink apron sounded pretty appealing to me." Sam said hiding his smile, Dean snorted and shook his head, nudging him again.

"So did you get an interview for it?" Dean turned a mock glare toward him, "I meant the construction thing," Sam clarified with a chuckle.

Dean nodded smiling back, "Right," He drawled, "No not yet, but I got one for the hardware store. Called all three places today and faxed or emailed over my resume, the store got back but I'm still waiting on the others. Hopefully tomorrow I'll hear. The interview for the store's this Tuesday though."

"Sounds good." Sam consented patting Dean's thigh, "Thanks man, for doing this. I know all this shits kinda, flipped our whole world upside down but you've been…really good about everything. Making the whole transition a lot smoother for all of us, and I just…I need you know it really means a lot. So thank you." Sam said, his voice dropping with his eyes as he finished, knowing full well the chances of Dean throwing the gratitude back in his face rather than appreciating it were very high.

But Dean just gave him a crooked smile and tilted his chin up with the tip of his finger, quickly descending to peck him on the lips, slow and soft. "It's not a problem lil' bro. I'm as much a part of this as you are, so whatever I do to help out is just me doing my job. So stop thanking me." He whispered, bumping his forehead with Sam's, his smile still in place. Sam huffed a laugh and backed away shaking his head.

"Whatever." He mumbled around a small smile as he settled against the couch again, turning back to the show. Dean maneuvered his arm around Sam and relaxed as well, pulling his brother in against his side, wrapping his other arm around his middle and resting against the top his head.

"Dean," Sam protesting trying to sit up, "What about Bobby?" He asked quietly, urgency in his eyes.

Dean just shrugged and pulled him back down, "I've held you like this since you were a baby kid, just chill."

Sam let his brother bring him back down before a small smile tugged on his lips, thinking on those words and all the times he could remember that made them true.

The next few hours flew by. The boys nodded off on the couch a few times before a surprisingly calm Bobby, considering their entwined position, roused them from the couch and shooed them off to bed. The boys were too tired to be embarrassed that their friend had found them asleep in each others arms, so they simply said their goodnights one last time and went up to bed, again choosing to share the same one, and soon after the house was back asleep.

It was hours later that the quiet night took an abrupt turn and the calm, sleeping members of the house were roused in a panic.

Sam awoke in bed panting, not quite understanding in his sleep-hazed mind why he was awake or out of breath before a quick shock of pain dragged low through his belly, knocking the air right out of his lungs in a whooshing gush. Things started coming together pretty quickly after that, and oh God did this feel familiar.

Dean lurched up in bed at the sound of his brother gasping for breath, turning toward Sam in the same second to hover over him.

And _damn_ had this already happened too many times, he was tired of waking up to a distressed, pained brother. It shredded his nerves to the core every time.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice sleep-rough and deep, but pressing and panicked nonetheless.

"Ow, _ow_, fuck Dean." He moaned clutching low on his stomach, "Shit somin's wrong." Sam slurred turning bleary eyes to his brother.

"Meyer!" Dean shouted, remembering all too well the last time this had happened. They'd lost a baby, and he really couldn't even begin to think about this being a repeat of _that_ night. He wouldn't bear it.

"It's alright Sammy, just keep breathin'." Dean calmed running clammy hands through Sam's hair, brushing it from his eyes, trying to soothe him. Meyer came rushing into the room at that moment.

"What's happening?" Meyer asked shortly, coming over to Sam's side of the bed.

"Shit I don't know, he said something's wrong." Dean offered seeing Sam wasn't able to speak yet. Bobby came in next and flipped on the lights, blazing everyone's eyes with the bright light. Bobby, Meyer and Dean shielded themselves for the one second it took to adjust their eyes before moving back into action.

Sam groaned lowly and squeezed his eyes tighter, still cradling his stomach.

"Where's it hurt Sam?" Meyer asked pulling up a stool and the ultrasound next to the bed, Dean felt the scene was far too familiar for his comfort.

Sam looked at his hands and rubbed as an indication, his panting breaths making it difficult to create full sentences.

Meyer nodded, pulling up his shirt up and applying the cold gel swiftly and professionally. When Sam's hands were in the way, Dean gently took him by the wrists and pulled them away, quietly keeping his steady stream of reassurances flowing into Sam's ear.

The doctor quickly nodded to Dean in thanks and began twirling around the machine searching for the right picture on screen. He finally spotted the two peanuts on the machine and slowed his search, looking for anything out of place.

Dean kept his gaze flicking steadily back and forth between his brother and the machine, even though he saw nothing but black and gray blobs he couldn't help but continue searching for anything that might hint as to what was wrong with Sam.

"Just keep breathing Sammy, you're doing so good." Dean whispered, running his free hand down Sam's arm, letting his other hand be strangled in Sam's ironclad grip.

"I-I don't see anything that's wrong." Meyer disclosed slowly, eyes still on the screen, "But this picture…it's not very clear. I could be missing something." He shook his head lifting the wand from Sam's stomach and wiping off the gel.

"Well obviously something's wrong," Dean pointed out, struggling to keep his voice calm and even, "What are you gonna do?"

Sam's breath hitched and his free hand went back down to his belly, drawing all their attention again.

"Well I need to know what's happening first before I can fix it, or determine if it's even threatening to any of them. This could be like the episodes in the beginning, his body adjusting or something, but I need a better picture." Meyer explained as he put the machine away and left the room.

Dean rubbed his forehead feeling the onsets of one serious migraine coming on. Too much stress and adrenaline, not enough sleep, not enough time to just be calm. They really couldn't catch a break.

"Hey, boy, it'll be alright." Bobby said, taking a few steps further into the room as he noticed Dean rubbing roughly at his temple. Dean whipped his head up; having forgotten Bobby had been there with him until now.

"Oh," Dean started, calming again in the same second, "Yeah…yeah I know." He agreed half-heartedly, "Shh Sammy, it's okay. Just hang in there a little longer," Deam encouraged noticing the small beads of sweat forming on Sam's skin, "Meyer's gonna figure out what's wrong. Don't worry little bro." Dean said, focusing on his brother again, his hand running up and down Sam's arm and chest and through his hair, providing as much comfort as he could.

"Dean," Sam grunted out before whimpering lowly, the sound sliced right through Dean's heart, "I don't wanna lose another b-baby." He whispered desperately, still panting harshly for air, "I can't." Sam shook his head, tossing back and forth on the pillow, rejecting the thought with his every fiber.

"Hey it's okay Sam, calm down." Dean demanded softly, grabbing Sam's face to make him look into his eye, "We're not losing any more of our family, I promised you that remember?" Sam nodded shakily, small tears dancing around the rims of his eyes, "Plus there's no blood this time, right?" Dean comforted in a whisper, rubbing the back of Sam's thigh, completely forgetting about their audience, "It can't be the same. We're gonna figure this out, okay? Just hang on a little longer Sammy. Everything's gonna be alright."

"Okay." Sam breathed, visibly relaxing, "Okay."

Just then Meyer raced in, stopping himself with his hand clutched on the doorframe.

"We need to get Sam down into the basement, it's not ideal but it's where all the equipment is. I have everything set up now." The doctor announced, his breathing labored as he'd evidently been running in his haste to get things ready.

Dean nodded curtly to the man in his assent. "I'll bring him down." Bobby and Meyer backed out of the room, giving Dean space to maneuver his brother out. Dean climbed off the bed and came around to Sam's side, bending over to get his brother's drifting attention again.

Sam face was scrunched loosely in pain, but it was obviously becoming manageable as he concentrated solely on working through it and relaxing. Dean hated to break that focus as he knew he'd probably cause him more pain again.

"Sammy." Dean whispered and Sam's eyes shot open, "I'm sorry, but we gotta move you downstairs." Sam swallowed thickly before he sucked in a breath and nodded.

"Okay, help me up." He agreed, holding out his hands.

"No Sammy I'm gonna carry you, the less you move the better before we know what's going on." Dean said, his voice hard and leaving little room for discussion. Sam relented slowly and reluctantly, but didn't voice his disapproval as he knew his brother was right.

Dean bent down low to scoop up his brother, sliding his arms gently under Sam's back and knees, trying to lift him as smoothly as possibly, but not surprisingly finding it difficult as Sam was already his height and almost his weight.

Moving him down the flights of stairs was serious work, especially as he was trying to be gentle about it, but as soon Sam was in the panic room, surrounding by medical equipment that could potentially save his or their babies lives, he knew there would never be anything he wouldn't do to keep his family safe.

Dean slowly lowered Sam onto the single cot in the room, propping him up on the extra pillows Meyer had brought and sat down in the chair that had been placed for him besides Sam's head.

Meyer was sitting on a rotating stool on the other side of the bed, still preparing his equipment for whatever tests he was planning on running to figure out what was wrong.

"Alright Sam, how's the pain right now, scale of one to ten." Meyer asked, still focused on working the big machine to his right, fiddling with tubes and wires but attentive to Sam nonetheless.

"Four or five, its manageable but something's definitely wrong." Sam answered as evenly as he could, still holding his stomach protectively.

Meyer nodded thoughtfully, done with preparing whatever machine he was working with, "Was it higher before, or has it been that level this whole time?"

"No, it was a six or seven before." Sam revealed sighing heavily and breaking his pattern of harsh panting, "Please doc, give me something. What could be wrong? Are they gonna be okay?" Sam asked, trying hard to stay calm despite the shake in his voice and hands.

"I'm sure they will be Sam, but to figure out what's causing this, I need to see what's happening. Their heartbeats are regular though, everything with them seems alright so you can relax." Meyer took a breath to continue but stopped as his gaze moved over to Bobby who was lingering anxiously just outside the open panic room door. Sam's eyes followed along with Dean's, both wondering what the look was for.

But then Bobby nodded to Meyer and took a step away, preparing to leave, "You're gonna be just fine Sam." Bobby said, determination mixed with sadness shining in his eyes, "I'll be waiting right upstairs, I'll come back down when you're done, okay?" He said not waiting for an answer as he took another step away before closing the door, giving them privacy.

Sam's stare immediately whipped back over to Meyer, panic clear in his eyes, "Doc what're you gonna do? Why does he have to go?"

"Sam it's alright, calm down." Meyer consoled placing a hand softly on Sam's forearm, "Just offering you a little privacy is all. It's nothing bad alright."

"Privacy for what?" Sam asked, his voice having quieted as he relaxed a little, taking some comfort in Meyer's words.

"Would you like to keep Dean in the room too?" Meyer asked, his professionalism masking over his emotions, giving him the perfect poker face and giving nothing away. That scared the hell out of Sam; he suddenly had the sick feeling of being conspired against, even if his rational mind knew it wasn't true.

"_Yes_ Meyer, now please just tell me what's going on? You're scaring me." Sam begged desperately, sweat dribbling down from his temples.

"It's _okay_ Sam, I'm just gonna try and get a better look at what's going on, alright? It's nothing to get worked up over." Meyer enforced, "The procedure is quick, I promise. I'm going to take a small camera and take a look inside to see if I can't find something I missed from the ultrasound – something that may have happened when the stitches healed that I missed. From how you describe the pain it sounds like maybe that could be where it's coming from. We'll have to see alright?" Meyer explained as vaguely and comfortingly as he could, for both Sam and Dean's sakes.

"The stitches _inside_?" Sam asked, his brow turning upward in apprehension as he swallowed thickly.

"It's alright Sam, like I said nothing to get worked up over. It'll be over before you even realize it started." But at seeing Sam take no comfort from his supporting words, he continued with an explanation, "I'd give you something to help calm you down, but with this high-risk pregnancy, it could cause complications during the procedure. I need to know when and if something I'm doing causes you more pain than it should, alright? Because I've obviously never dealt with a situation like this before, I don't know how certain things will effect you or the babies, so I need you to be alert. You understand what I'm saying?" Meyer asked, ducking to make sure he was being seen and heard by his distraught patient.

Dean stepped in then, thankfully taking the reigns from the doctor who didn't know half as well as him how to maneuver through situations with Sam.

"Hey brother, you hearing the doc?" Dean asked, placing a hand on the side of Sam's neck to get him to look at him. Sam nodded quickly, realizing he should've answered a while ago and quickly becoming embarrassed as he schooled his features.

"Yeah I understand Meyer. You do whatever you need to make sure they're okay." Sam said, instantly complying once he waded through his shock to process what needed to be done.

Meyer nodded uneasily at the empty tone in Sam's voice but took the consent for what it was and prepared for the procedure.

"Okay Sam, I'm gonna give you a minute to get undressed and under the sheet. Then just lay on your side and face Dean. Knock whenever your ready, I'll be on the other side of the door." Meyer informed with a tight smile before leaving quickly and shutting the big metal door behind him.

"Alright Sammy," Dean said with a soft smile of his own as he stood above his brother, trying to keep his attitude light as he prepared his brother, "Lift your hips for me." He instructed, keeping his voice as calm and neutral as he could even as every instinct in him screamed to protect his brother from the doctor.

"No. Dean it basically doesn't hurt anymore, maybe this was just a one-time fluke kind of thing. Like the doc said nothing's wrong with the babies, so nothing's wrong right?" Sam tried to reason, grasping at straws trying to get out of this. Dean gave him a sympathetic look and crouched down to be level with his brother again.

"Look Sammy, I know you're still in pain. I can see it on your face no matter what you say, and we both know this isn't just some one-time thing. As for the babies, I'm really relieved they seem healthy, but that just means now I'm worried about you. We both know the track record for this whole…situation so far and it isn't good, which means were getting this checked out. Doesn't matter how much you plead or try and buckle me with those puppy dog eyes, I'm not putting your life in danger for anything." Dean said lightly, keeping his voice quiet and serene to balance out the heaviness of his words before he stood again. "So lift up," Dean said once more, patting the side of Sam's hip.

Sam's mask completely fell apart at that, realizing then that there was no way to get out of this. He shot Dean one last pleading look, letting every rampant emotion clashing within him show. And a lot of it was pure helpless, desperate, fear.

Dean couldn't stand to see Sam so petrified, and the amount of fear he saw quickly made him realize there were deeper meanings behind where it came from. He sighed and leaned over his brother one last time, "Don't start thinking like that Sammy," Dean reprimanded after connecting the dots, "This won't be anything like what that bastard did before okay? This is _Meyer_, we know him, we trust him, and he's here to help you. So just try to relax a little, everything's gonna be okay." He soothed, leaning down farther to kiss Sam softly, running his calloused fingers down his cheek and feeling him slowly loosen under his touch, "That's it," He smiled reassuringly, "Now for real, let me get these off. I can't stand seeing you in pain so please, let's get this done with so we can figure out how to fix whatever's wrong."

Sam slowly lifted his hips off the bed with a tight grimace, the movement obviously causing him discomfort, so Dean quickly tugged down the boxers and let Sam relax into the bed again, working the sheet out from under him and tossing over his lax form.

"Thank you," Dean whispered kneeling down to press his lips to Sam's once more, letting his tongue lightly trace the bottom edge before pulling away, "Okay now turn on your side." He said trying to ignore the blatant fear on his little brother's face, knowing the only way he'd get him through this was if he stayed calm and confident.

Dean helped Sam roll over, the jostling and twisting doing nothing for whatever was happening in Sam's stomach as he groaned and hissed through the rougher movements.

"Okay, hang on Sammy. I'm gonna get Meyer."

Dean knocked on the heavy door a few times before returning to Sam's side and waiting for the doctor to come in and get settled. Sam flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut again as the doctor entered and moved around to sit at Sam's back, but visibly relaxed again when Dean slid his palm over Sam's neck and squeezed his shoulder.

"Alright Sam, you all set?" Meyer asked as he situated himself and his equipment.

Sam breathed out a shaky sigh before looking up to Dean; his brother took his hand and smiled as he nodded in encouragement.

"Yeah doc, we're ready." Dean answered for him before climbing out his chair to kneel at Sam's head, knowing he didn't want to be propped up enough to see whatever Meyer was about to do and wanting to be directly in Sam's line of sight.

Meyer lifted the sheet on his side and threw it over his hip making Sam shiver. Whether from the cool exposure or the fearful anticipation of what was about to happen Dean wasn't sure, but he didn't like it all the same.

"It's alright Sammy, you're okay." Dean consoled in barely a whisper, leaning his chin on the mattress to press his forehead to Sam's feeling his body shake under his touch.

"Alright Sam, we're gonna get started now. Just going to feel my hands, okay? Nothing to be nervous about." Meyer explicated, being as tender as he could to try and alleviate Sam's fear.

Dean felt Sam flinch against him and snatch up one of his hands, tugging himself closer to his brother on instinct. "It's okay Sammy, just focus on me man." Dean said backing up to look in his brother's eye, reaching his free hand out to place securely on Sam's cheek and running his thumb reassuringly over the skin.

"Okay Sam, here we go. Just try and relax for me, alright? Keep breathing evenly and deeply." The doctor coached calmly. Dean stomach flipped in its own anxiety as his hand squeezed Sam's in what he hoped was positive encouragement, ignoring every voice that told him to save his brother from this turmoil and run from the room. He needed to be strong for Sam.

Sam kept his eyes intensely fixated on Dean's as did his best to comply, sucking in a few trembling breaths and forcing them out slowly, trying to unclench all his coiled muscles. Dean glanced up suddenly, feeling eyes on him. Meyer was peering over at him, trying to discern whether Sam was ready or not, so Dean nodded, giving the doc the go ahead. The doctor returned it and looked away, signaling that he was ready.

A second later Sam gasped in evident surprise and curled in on himself, his brow crumpling as he simultaneously pulled himself closer to Dean again. "Shh calm down Sammy, try and stay still." Dean hushed, smoothing his hand down Sam's face and neck, around to his back as he gently massaged the tensed muscles. "Come on brother, keep breathing, remember? It'll help you relax." He coaxed again, knowing how much harder he was making this on himself by resisting.

Sam gave an almost inaudible whimper as his eyes slammed shut and his teeth came down over his bottom lip, gnawing on the tender flesh until it was flushed red and swollen.

"Stop Sammy," Dean whispered, the back of his fingers moving to brush over Sam's lips, attempting to make him let go. "Come on man, you can do this, just take a deep breath and relax. The harder you fight this the worse you're going to make it, please Sammy." Dean begged, hating the sight of Sam in any level of discomfort or pain.

Finally Sam's eyes shot open again to look at Dean before he drew in a lungful of air and let it out in a huff, obviously trying to get his muscles to stop twitching and tensing as he followed his brother's advice. "That's it man, good job." Dean praised.

Sam's eyes were bloodshot and squinted as they bored into Dean's, pain and vulnerability all too visible in them for his brother's wellbeing. He spared a quick glance up to the doctor, wanting to know if he was almost done, but Meyer's eyes were riveted on the screen facing away from them, showing the doctor the picture from his camera. Dean didn't want to break his focus, so he kept his mouth shut and continued comforting Sam, clenching his jaw against the urge to scream at Meyer to hurry the fuck up.

"You're doing great Sammy, I'm so fuckin' proud of you man. Just a little bit longer, you're almost done." Dean said softly, continuing to run his knuckles over Sam's face and chest, wishing he could quell the trembling in his body.

Sam did his best to keep his sole attention on Dean and ignore what was happening to him, but whatever it was it was obviously hard for him to focus through because every second brought a new wave of pained expression onto his face. It was killing Dean to watch.

A few moments later Sam's eyes yanked open wide as he gasped in a strangled breath of air and moaned, clutching Dean's hand all the tighter.

"Okay Sam, try and relax," Meyer instructed once again, "Almost there."

Sam started panting groans and whimpers, doing everything he could not to jerk away from the doctor's ministrations. "Meyer what's happening?" Dean asked, fraught and panicked at the new level of his brother's discomfort.

"We've hit a tender spot, about at the stitches. Sorry Sam, hang on." Meyer said, still focused exclusively on the screen before him.

"Ow, god, fuck. It hurts." Sam keened breathlessly, his eyes shut tight as shudders bore through his bulky frame.

Dean's heart rate spiked, thundering relentlessly in his chest as he watched his brother succumb to his agony helplessly, restraining himself from knocking Meyer's lights out with every part of his being. "Sh, sh, shh it's okay Sammy, almost done. Just hang on." He chanted, grasping desperately at anything he could think of to take the pained grimace from his little brother's face.

Sam cried out, wrenching his head back as Meyer hit something that obviously was the problem that'd been causing him pain all along, "Yeah. That's it." The doctor announced, solidifying Dean's guess as to what'd happened.

"_Stop_. Doc you're hurting him." Dean demanded frantically, watching beads of sweat drip from his brother's worn face.

"It's okay Sam, we're done." Meyer stated, calming both boys down with his proclaimed finish. Dean sighed a huge breath of relief, more than glad this was about over as he leaned into Sam brushing his lips over his brother's sweaty cheek.

"You did so good Sammy, it's over. It's over," Dean exhaled, brushing away his brother's damp locks and leaning back, letting out one last huge sigh of reprieve.

"Oh thank god," Sam sighed under his breath as soon as Meyer was done retracting his equipment and he covered him back up.

"Yeah, seriously." Dean added in a whisper, hoping he never had to witness something like this ever again.

Meyer wrapped up his machine and turned it off, giving Sam some time to calm down before he explained whatever it was he'd found. Soon though, he moved around to the other side of the bed beside Dean.

"Okay Sam, good news is, I found the problem. There's a hole in the tissue where the other doctor had stitched you up, one of the stitches must've popped and I didn't catch it on the sonogram. It hasn't been causing you pain until now because the babies have been growing and most likely moving, even if you can't feel it yet, which has been irritating the unhealed tissue." Sam's eyes brightened with that piece of information, his babies were _moving_? "The bad news is I'm going to have to go in and stitch you up again, you'll be under anesthesia for the whole process of course, but nevertheless, I'm sure its not something you're looking forward to." Meyer explained sympathetically.

Dean's eyes roamed as he thought on that but soon he quickly nodded, looking at Sam to make sure he felt it was all right.

"Yeah doc, that's fine. If I'm out for it I don't really care what you do." Sam said nonchalantly, still reeling from the fact that their babies were moving, soon he'd be able to feel them himself. The idea definitely brightened his spirits.

"Alright good. It won't take long at all, ten, fifteen minutes tops. But Dean I would ask you to wait upstairs if that's alright, because since it's technically surgery, I'd have to get you sterile scrubs and everything…it's just not worth the hassle. That alright?" Meyer asked politely, making sure he at least gave the impression that the choice was up to him.

"Yeah Meyer it's fine. You'll be alright without me, huh Sammy?" Dean asked jokingly, somewhere in the recesses of his mind actually searching for a serious answer.

"I'll be fine." Sam said, shooting his brother a crooked grin, "And thanks Dean" He added more quietly, "For staying here with me and everything." He gratified softly, his eyes speaking the million words he couldn't in the presence of the doctor.

Dean smiled back, "What'd I tell you 'bout thanking me? I wouldn't leave my damsel in distress for anything, you know that." He teased again, keeping the mood light, as right now his nerves were shot and his body was still twitchy from the horrible few minutes that'd just passed. "I'll be here when you wake up." Dean said as a way of goodbye, glancing around quickly to see where the doctor was before he left. Meyer was now preparing what he needed for the operation and conveniently turned away from them, so Dean of course took the opportunity to place his mouth to Sam's one more time, his gratitude and relief and happiness that this was over and almost fixed all relayed through the simple touch.

"Countin' on it." Sam shot back as Dean stood, making his way toward the door.

"Thanks doc, for everything. You really have no idea how lost we'd be in this without you." Dean thanked as he opened the panic room door and stepped outside.

"Not a problem kid, I'll see you in a few." He replied insouciantly, waving him off.

A half hour later, Sam was asleep and recovering from the minor surgery, and Dean was at his usual spot by his side, stroking his hand and whispering soft reassurances while waiting to see those beautiful hazel orbs open up to him once more.

He knew then if they could make it through this, they could really make it through absolutely anything.


	16. Swing and Land Solid

_As usual, haven't read it all in one go, it's too late and I want my bed. Hope it makes sense. It's extra long for my absence _

_Xx_

"Hey Sammy," A distant voice called, ringing in Sam's head, "Come on princess open those eyes for me."

Princess? The name rang bells in his head - he knew that voice, that ridiculous pet name. Sifting through the mountainous fog clouding his mind it came to him.

"D'n." Sam tried to respond, his voice too weak and muddled to be clear yet. It took him a few seconds to realize why he was so groggy, why it was so difficult to open his eyes, why his body felt numb and tingly at the same time. Everything was slowly coming back.

"Yeah it's me dude, right here. Open your eyes." Dean coaxed softly, running a hand through Sam's unruly hair. Finally Sam did and a rush of colors and light blinded his blurry sight.

"'S too bright." Sam mumbled wrenching them closed again. He felt Dean move from beside him before the room went dark and his brother's presence returned. "Better." Sam whispered in appreciation.

"Yeah, now look at me brother."

Sam did. "There ya are Sammy. Nice to see you conscious again, how do you feel?" Dean asked lightly, leaning on the edge of the bed.

"Uh…weird. Groggy. A little hungry." Dean laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah I'm not surprised there, but," he shrugged, "long as you're not in any pain, guess that's good."

"No I'm okay. How long was I out? And how did you guys move me?" Sam asked, looking around as his surroundings focused and he saw he was now in their bedroom with an IV stand next to him.

"You've been out a while actually, Meyer kept you sedated. It's…been a little over a day." Dean revealed reluctantly hurrying to finish his answers, "And we got you up here using a stretcher thing Meyer found, had to keep you still…"

"What do you mean over a day?" Sam exclaimed quickly trying to sit up.

"Whoa, easy Sam." Dean calmed keeping him down with gentle hands pressed to his shoulders, "Everything's okay. It was just to make sure you didn't move at all unnecessarily. I had to beg Meyer for over an hour just to get you up here, he's really worried the stitches will pop again. And if they do he said he's worried they won't get a chance to heal at all now that the little monsters are really starting to grow."

Sam's head pushed back into the pillow in frustration, "Great, he's gonna go crazy to keep me still now. Probably even have me bed ridden." He whined, but his attention was pulled when he saw Dean stiffen slightly at his side.

"What?" Sam asked intently, but the answer was unnecessary as he saw what Dean was anxious about. A thin clear tube was running out from under his sheets and a Foley bag was attached at the end.

"Oh you're kidding me." Sam croaked eyeing it wearily.

"Yeah, sorry dude, don't envy ya there." Dean said rubbing up Sam's bicep, "M'sure it'll come out soon, don't stress over it."

"Easy for you to say." Sam muttered, self-pity evident in his tone.

"But uh, even once this thing does come out, I still don't think you're getting out of bed for a while. At least not for anything more than the bathroom." Dean muttered apologetically.

"Okay...a while's like, today, tomorrow…what?" Sam asked apprehensively.

"Well he didn't give a specific time frame, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess he meant just a little longer."

"God damnet." Sam mumbled through clenched teeth, "Things just keep getting better every fucking day." He kept ranting, finally cutting off as the door creaked open and Meyer came in.

"Ah, good. Glad to see you're up Sam, how do you f-?"

"How long am I stuck in this bed and when are you getting this _thing_ out of me?" Sam deliberately interrupted, his expression stern and completely unforgiving.

Meyer cleared his throat and brushed off the rude disruption, giving Sam a small, apologetic smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that Sam. We can take it now if you'd like, since you're up I see no reason to keep it in."

"Sounds great. And how long?" Sam bit out, not allowing Meyer to weasel out of the answer he really wanted.

"About a week Sam, I think that should give enough time-"

"A _week_?" Sam interjected again.

"That's about how long the stitches will need before you can actively move around again, yes." Meyer explained patiently, "If they tear we may not get another chance to fix this which could potentially be fatal for both of your babies. This is serious Sam, I know-"

"Fatal?" Sam whispered in horror, his face paling instantly and his anger completely dissipating. Dean immediately shot Meyer an incensed glare and knelt down beside Sam grabbing his hand firmly as he turned his face toward him.

"That isn't going to happen Sammy, member what I told you, I'm not letting anything else hurt this family. You're gonna heal just fine and be outta this bed in no time. Right Meyer." Dean said, once again directing his irritated stare up toward the doctor who was now looking sheepishly down at the boys.

"Of course. I wasn't trying to scare you Sam, just let you know that this should be taken seriously. Don't get out of bed and try and walk around to stretch your legs, or get yourself food or something – that's all I'm saying. Then you and the babies should be perfectly fine." Meyer consoled patting Sam gently on the arm.

Sam sniffed and nodded, giving Meyer a small, unconvincing smile before they were left in an awkward silence.

Meyer eventually remembered what he was supposed to be doing and asked Sam if he'd still like him to remove the catheter, which of course was an uncomfortable question with the tension still as thick as it was, but Sam agreed nonetheless.

"You want Dean to stay?" Meyer asked as he gloved his hands and began deflating the balloon.

Sam shrugged at Dean, his face heating as he debated - half despising the idea of being exposed in front of Meyer and Dean at the same time, and half hating the idea of sending Dean away.

"Fuck I don't care. It'll take two seconds, just do it." Sam snapped, irrationally angry at the doctor. But all the stress of the past few days was getting to him - being put in one awkward or painful situation after the other, he was tired of it.

Meyer didn't respond though, simply pulled away the sheets, lifted up the cheap, ugly hospital gown and did as he was told, ignoring his patient's tetchy attitude, knowing full well it was justified.

Sam grumbled and winced as the doctor started and Dean grabbed his wrist, rubbing slow circles into his skin. "Woulda rather just pissed the damn bed for a day." He cussed, "Or a diaper, woulda taken a diaper too." He muttered as Meyer finished and threw the supplies away along with his gloves.

"Sorry bud, haven't seen any super-sized diapers around here. Maybe next time." He joked patting Sam on the shoulder.

Sam huffed giving him a rueful smile, "_No_ next time."

Meyer smiled back, finished cleaning up and left the boys to themselves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Your interview's tomorrow isn't it?" Sam asked after a few seconds of quiet had passed.

"Yeah, at eleven. And the construction company got back to me while you were out, they want to interview me tomorrow too, at one." Dean announced, a small but satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"That's great Dean. I'm proud of you man. I know you're gonna get whichever one you want." Sam encouraged tiredly, his pain medication clearly working into his system again, fighting his will to stay awake.

Dean nodded brushing his hand through Sam's hair, "Yeah, hope so. You look wiped man, go back to sleep. I'll wake you up for dinner." He whispered watching as his brother gradually drifted back into unconsciousness without another word.

Hours passed before dinner rolled around and Sam woke up to a light touch on his shoulder.

"There ya go kid," A familiar gruff voice stirred him; he blinked his eyes open.

"Bobby." Sam whispered in quiet surprise, slowly coming back to himself from his sleep.

"Yep. Brought some dinner up for ya. Don't know what you're in the mood for but I've got lasagna if you're hungry." He offered kindly, nodding to the tray he'd set on the nightstand.

Sam was still too stuck on how uncharacteristically gentle and caring his old friend was being to process whether he was hungry or not.

"Thanks Bobby," Sam replied, trying to disguise the surprise in his tone as he tried to get his arms under him to sit up.

"Oh hang on son." Bobby said, standing abruptly to help Sam scoot up the bed before placing pillows behind him to prop him up. "There ya go, so you feel like eatin' now?" He asked, sitting down in the chair Dean had been occupying earlier and leaning forward on his knees, his attention devoted completely to Sam. It was unnerving for the youngest Winchester to see Bobby so compassionate, especially given their recent past.

"Um sure, thank you again Bobby, you didn't have to bring this up." Sam said, once again floundering in his thanks - at a loss of what to say or where he stood with the man.

"Well, it ain't much like you can just go down and get it yourself." He shrugged, "It was no problem." Bobby said placing the try on Sam's lap.

Sam nodded, half shrugging in resentful agreement before picking up his utensils and cutting up his pasta. Bobby sat there watching Sam's food for a moment, his eyes spacy and his mouth hanging slightly open as if he were about to speak. Sam watched him worriedly, waiting, his attention slowly wavering from his food.

"Sam I-" Bobby started finally lifting his eyes, "I want you to know, I'm sorry. I know…I know I haven't exactly been here for you, or Dean, since the whole," The man waved a hand through the air, replacing words he couldn't find, "But, damn, last night really put things back in perspective, ya know? I mean, watching you two, pulling each other through this…impossible situation, I don't know," Bobby shrugged, "I guess I just, well, I understand if you boys need this." He admitted somewhat unwillingly, "And I guess I really can't bring myself to hold that against ya." Bobby shook his head again, looking at the ground, "You're my boys," He added softly, squinting back up to meet Sam's eye, "And I love you both to death. I…just…needed to make sure you remembered that."

Sam sighed shakily, blinking away the welling tears as he tried to smile at his oldest friend, his mentor and guardian in so many ways, and nodded in response, his throat too tight to speak.

Bobby patted his hand, smiling back in understanding and stood to leave.

"Bobby," Sam whispered just before he got to the door, "_Thank_ _you_. It's not enough I know…I'm not sure anything ever will be, but thank you."

The old man just tilted his head in a final nod and grinned, sincerity glazing over his eyes before he turned and left.

Sam remained alone in his overwhelming silence, going over and over everything Bobby had said, until Dean came in and took him from his thoughts.

"Hey man, how's dinner?" Dean asked as he sat down. Sam had all but forgotten his food.

"Has Bobby talked to you lately?" Sam questioned, ignoring what Dean asked.

"Yeah, while you were asleep. I was guessing that's what he wanted to do when he offered to bring you up dinner." Dean alleged, "Explained a lot, apologized…it was nice. Hopefully things can start going back to how they were now, I've missed the old geezer."

Sam laughed a little hysterically, thrown by the all-seriousness of Bobby's heartfelt speech and Dean's blasé response.

"Yeah, me too. I'm…_really_ glad he came around. But surprised. Honestly, I thought it would take longer, a lot longer. Ya know?" Sam said distractedly, taking a small, hesitant bite of his food.

"Nah, I never had any doubt that old softy would give in." Dean brushed off before dropping his eyes, "He loves us." He explained simply, "Knew he didn't stand a chance."

Sam merely smiled back, but it was the first real, _dimpled_ smile he'd given in a long time and it felt truly _good_ to wear it. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Dean's interview arrived quicker than Sam had expected - not that he'd given it much thought, but now that it was here he was feeling oddly thrown and he couldn't pinpoint why. Half of him felt only excitement and pride for his brother, but the other half was overwhelmed with inexplicable unease, fear.

Almost like separation anxiety, and damn did that do a number on his ego. He felt entirely too dependent on his brother as it was, but with this? It just felt ridiculous. His haywire emotions were completely shredded and determinedly throwing him all over the place.

But then Dean stepped out of the bathroom and immediately Sam was pulled from his whirling head. The sight of half-naked Dean usually did that to him and this time was no exception. His brother had a red towel wrapped around his waist and steam billowing out around him, droplets still trailing down his body. Sam forgot what'd been stressing him out.

Dean smirked at Sam before going to the closet and dropping his towel, patting himself dry and rubbing at his wet hair. Sam's eyes were riveted and wide as he studied Dean's perfectly flawed body: the bullet wounds and burn marks – every imperfection creating a clean map of their life together. Displaying every trial they'd overcome.

Sam was dazed with a wave of warmth and comfort and security as he watched Dean; so much love it felt like someone was inflating his heart like a balloon.

"Come on Sammy you're makin' me blush." Dean said, playing bashful, and once again taking Sam from his thoughts. He'd been noticeably staring.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, averting his eyes, "Sorry man, I spaced out."

"Well who wouldn't, lookin' at me." Dean returned shrugging, his crooked smirk in place again.

"True." Sam conceded shamelessly, cocking his head to the side as he appraised Dean's now clothed appearance. He had on a fitted, black button down and ironed jeans, his hair tastefully disheveled and his face freshly clean-shaven. "You look good."

"Well that's the whole point, right? This is a job interview." Dean shrugged, "I just hope my charm's enough." He half-heartedly joked, "Not like I have any real job experience."

"Dean," Sam halted, "You're going to do fine. Just relax, alright? Our lives don't depend on this job. If you don't find something this first try, then we'll keep looking okay? It'll be fine."

Dean nodded, smiling his agreement, "You're right." He walked over to Sam's bedside and leaned down, pecking him on the lips.

It was meant to be just that, quick and chaste, but Sam quickly caught Dean's face in his hands, holding his jaw securely as he deepened their kiss, opening his lips to invite him in. Dean did gladly, his surprise rapidly vanishing in place of pleasure and passion; he was lost in it in a second.

"Whoa," Dean muttered as they parted a few inches, leaning his forehead against Sam's, "That was a surprise." He whispered smiling before opening his eyes.

But Sam's expression pulled the smile right off his face. He didn't look happy or sated like Dean had expected, he was smiling softly but his eyes were sad, lost somehow. "Sammy what's wrong?" Dean asked, nervous.

"What? Nothing's wrong." Sam dismissed, his features quickly masking over.

"Dude, talk to me. You can't just kiss me like that, give me those puppy dog eyes then close off. You know I won't leave it alone till you tell me." Dean reminded, his eyes soft but his voice stern, "What's goin' on?"

"I don't know Dean, it's stupid…nothing. Just, don't worry about it. I don't even know what's wrong." Sam tried but Dean didn't give an inch.

"Fine, I'm a little…fuck man it's ridiculous-"

"_Sam_." Dean warned.

"I'm just – I'm gonna miss you! Alright?" Sam yelled, throwing his hands out as his face heated, "Told you it was stupid." He mumbled much quieter but quickly moving on to explain, "I just feel like, I don't know, this is the first time we're really gonna be apart in five months, ya know? We've always been within _twenty_ _feet_ of each other since this whole mess started and now – as much as I'm glad you're getting a job and everything – I just feel like this is the beginning of all this time we're gonna spend constantly apart…" Sam rambled, "And I really couldn't sound any more pathetic, huh." He shook his head ashamedly, "I don't know man, I feel kinda trapped in this bed and the…hormones, I guess I'm a little crazy right now. Please just forget it Dean. I don't want this shit to jeopardize your interview."

Dean looked at his brother, quickly schooling over his shock and calming himself for his brother's sake, gathering all the information Sam had just unloaded on him.

In a way it made sense, sure, but it was still hard to process that Sam felt so strongly about something he'd had no idea about until now. And Dean couldn't help but agree that it was a little ridiculous, what Sam was feeling, even if he'd never say that to him.

"Sam, I don't know what you want me to say…you're the one who wanted me to get a job." Dean defended not knowing what else to do. Sam's features quickly gave away that that had been the wrong thing to say.

"I just told you I don't want you to say anything. Forget it okay? And it's not like I'm forcing you to get a job, you know I'd be working too if I could." Sam snapped back, replacing his embarrassment with anger.

"Of course I do Sam, just…I guess I'm not sure where this is coming from. It's not like I'll be out partying without you or something, I'll be working to bring home money for baby clothes and diapers and formula and maybe a place of our own someday – I'm doing this to provide for us. What else do you want me to do?" Dean asked, his question sounding harsher than he'd meant it to.

"_Dean_." Sam bit out, "Like I said before, forget it. I don't want you to do anything, _you_ asked what was wrong and I told you. Just go to your interview." He shooed, shaking his head away from his brother.

"Don't be like this Sam. Come on I'm just trying to help."

"You're not helping Dean, I already feel like enough of a child. I don't need you babying me about this. Just go, you're gonna be late."

Dean sighed heavily, "Okay." He relented, "I'll be back as soon as I'm done, or I could stop on the way home and bring you something for dinner?" He asked, hoping to brighten his brother's mood.

"If you want to, I don't care." Sam replied tersely, still masking his insecurity with unjustified anger.

Dean sighed again getting tired of Sam's attitude and stood, "Alright. I'll have my cell if you need anything."

"Bobby and Meyer are here, think I'll be alright." Sam retorted cynically, looking at Dean condescendingly.

Dean shook his head pressing his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, "Whatever Sam. Guess I'll see you later."

It didn't take long after the door had shut before Sam had silent tears trailing down his face, realizing just what a jerk he'd been to his nothing-but-supportive brother for practically no reason but his own insecurities and hating himself a little more for being so damn pathetic about it.

It was only a few minutes later that Sam was sobbing into his pillow as he heard the Impala rumble out of Bobby's lot and drive away. Some part of him had actually thought Dean would come back to fix this before leaving. Being proven wrong…it was like a sledgehammer to his chest. He didn't think he could feel any lower.

At some point someone must have heard him balling like a child because there was a quiet knock at the door before someone stepped inside. Sam didn't bother turning to check who it was.

"Sam?" It was Bobby. "What's 'a matter kid?" His grumbling voice sounded behind him before footsteps moved around the bed and he came into view. Sam yanked the covers above his head before Bobby could see the evidence of his tears, even if he knew he'd already heard him.

"Oh come on boy don't be like that." Bobby chastised.

"Get out." Sam demanded, wishing his voice hadn't cracked so pitiably; he really wanted to be left alone.

"Sam talk to me son. Did…Dean do somethin' to upset ya?" He asked hesitantly, still a little uncomfortable talking about the two of them together.

"Bobby, _go_ _away_."

"No."

Sam didn't reply.

"Alright, I'll call Dean. He'll tell me what happened."

Sam yanked down the covers.

"Why is it any of your business Bobby?" Sam asked, meaning to sound angry but coming off as desperate.

"Because I'm makin' it my business. Now tell me what the hell happened."

Sam sighed in rapid defeat, too tired to fight him anymore as his tears resurfaced and spilled over quietly, "I-" He puffed out his breath, "I'm a fucking idiot." Sam stuttered over another breath, "And I pissed him off by being a baby and feeling sorry for myself, and now he's going to an interview to try and get a job so he can take care of us and get us baby clothes and diapers and formula…" Sam said, using Dean's earlier words before shuddering in another breath, "He's not gonna do well because he'll be thinking about my sorry ass and wondering why the hell I was being such a dick for no reason…God what is wrong with me?" Sam cried, trying to stop his tears as they were not at all helping with his current self-deprecating mood.

"There's nothing wrong with you Sam." Bobby timidly patted Sam's shoulder, "Don't beat yourself up kid, that's not gonna do anything for either of ya. And besides, Dean's gonna do just fine. He'll come back here in a few hours with a new job or a second interview, and then you two can talk, work this out…it'll be fine Sam." He comforted reassuringly.

"Whatever." Sam dismissed, shaking Bobby's hand off his shoulder, "I told you. Now can I be alone?"

Bobby nodded, knowing there was nothing more he could do and trying not to take offence in Sam's attitude.

"Alright Sam. Just yell if ya need anything."

Sam ground his teeth together until the door shut, signaling Bobby's departure and then he let his turmoil take over, crying until he couldn't anymore, finally falling into a disturbed sleep.

Dean's interview was not going as well as he'd hoped. The store manager, Jeff, kept looking at him with this skeptic, condescending glare that threw him off every time. And he was pretty sure he kept getting those disbelieving looks because he couldn't get Sam out of his head for more than a few seconds, which also threw him off.

He'd already stuttered over three answers, laughed at himself inappropriately – getting cricket silence and a death glare in return, and spaced off for almost half a minute, unable to answer one of the most simplest of questions: 'what do you think qualifies you to work here,' because all he could think was _desperation_.

Sam was overruling every one of his thoughts; he'd never felt so jumbled up or off-kilter in his life. _Sam_, _Sam_, _Sam_: it was a never ending mantra in his head – 'take care of Sammy', 'watch out for your brother', 'make sure Sammy's safe'.

His head was spinning with it; he _needed_ this job. And then he needed to go home and talk to Sam, work whatever had happened out with him because he couldn't concentrate on anything with this hanging over his head.

"_Dean_." Jeff barked, dragging Dean back into the small office room and the interview, startling him in his seat. He jerked his head up and met the manager's incredulous stare.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head, rubbing his eyes, "I-" Dean sighed, abandoning his thought after a moment's pause, "Alright sir…please, let me just be straight with you."

"-Gladly." Jeff interjected, "Be a nice change of pace considering the rest of the interview."

Dean agreed with a sheepish tilt of his head, "About that. I know I've been all over the place so far and I'm sorry for that, but you have to understand…I'm not usually like this – so nervous and unfocused." He shook his head apologetically, "I'm about to be a father, to twins," Jeff's doubt shifted into surprise, "And just before this, me and my, partner, got into this fight and, well, I guess everything…piled up and it's kind of getting to me. I truly do apologize for this crazy interview, it was probably a waste of your time and I'll stop rambling excuses now if you'd like, but I think you should know first that there is no one in this town that will work harder for this job than me." Dean swore passionately, "If there's one thing I am, it's loyal…and desperate." He conceded, "I'll do just about anything for a chance to work here and even more to keep it."

Jeff took a moment before saying anything, keeping Dean on the edge of his seat. "Well what do ya know, you _can_ speak coherently," Jeff said in mock surprise, smirking. Dean huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, who knew?" He joked along with him.

"Well Dean, you may have just hit the jackpot with this one, 'cause I don't know of another person on the planet who would hire you after that interview," He chuckled, shaking his head, "But lucky for you I know what its like to be in that kind of position." Jeff explained, his eyes slowly sobering, "Started here when I was fifteen, paying for bills I shouldn't have been responsible for. I know what it's like to be desperate and I respect you takin' a stand to provide for your family." He nodded approvingly, "You seem like a stand-up guy, and I do believe you're willing to do just about anything for this job, which works out great for me." He shrugged tapping his pen on his desk, "So welcome to _Jack's_ _Hardware_." He announced, smiling broadly at the shell-shocked expression on Dean's face before standing to shake his hand.

"Wow, sir. Thank you so much. I promise my desperation _will_ work in your favor." Dean nodded enthusiastically, laughing at the giddy feeling of accomplishment and pride bubbling through his system.

Jeff laughed with him, "I don't doubt it. We'll get you started in training next Thursday - go over payments and dates and your shifts, all that good stuff. Be here at eight, you'll be done around twelve. See you then Dean."

"Yes sir, eight o'clock. I'll be here." Dean promised whole-heartedly, thanking his new manager one last time before leaving his office. "Hell, fuckin', yes." He hissed as he descended the stairs to the main floor where the customers were: browsing around and asking questions, testing stuff out.

Dean eyes appraised over everyone, realizing then as he took in the few people he spotted wearing red vests with _Jack's_ _Hardware_ on the back that he had his work cut out for him. The employees were weaving around all over the place, it was no wonder they needed help.

Dean walked down the rest of the stairs, his stomach still flipping at the idea of a stable source of money, and began his way toward the exit when a voice stopped him.

"You get it?" A petite red head in her twenties asked, tilting a dark brow at him as her lips curved into a sweet smirk.

Dean looked around him quickly to make sure it was him she was talking to, but there was no one looking their way, "Get what?"

She laughed and glanced up at the office overhead, "The job. Jeff said someone was comin' in today to interview. How'd it go?" Dean only then noticed she was wearing the red uniform vest: she worked there. Of course.

"Oh, right. Uh, yeah…it was…well, I got the job." Dean shrugged, giving her his best smile but otherwise ignoring the chance to shamelessly flirt with the gorgeous redhead. He backed up towards the door, still facing her. "But I'm sorry, I gotta go. Guess I'll be seein' you around though…" He glanced at her nametag, "Jesslyn. Bye." He lifted his hand in a quick wave before heading off to his car, more than excited to get back to Sam.

He couldn't wait to tell him – simply skip his next interview and go home to him, forget their earlier discussion-fight thing and celebrate.

"Hey Meyer." Dean greeted as the front door slammed shut behind him.

"What happened between you and Sam, Dean?" Meyer asked, his tone haltingly accusatory and wiping the smile from Dean's face, "We don't need him stressing over anything unnecessary, let alone up their crying himself dry for hours! I was ready to sedate him until he finally fell asleep."

"What?" Dean bellowed, "Crying for hours-? Why didn't either of you call me! I would've come back…he was _crying_? What the hell, I didn't do anything!"

"Shh, Dean calm down, he might still be asleep." Meyer shushed, "We didn't call because you would've come straight back, and that would've upset Sam even more. He already thought he ruined your interview." Meyer explained more calmly, his expression softening as he watched how distraught Dean was over the news, "You know, it's probably just hormones," He shook his head, "Sometimes it doesn't take much to set them off. Sometimes it takes nothing. His emotions are all over the place – maybe you didn't do anything wrong. Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I was worried about him."

"Like hell it wasn't my fault." Dean countered heatedly, ignoring the apology, "Obviously _I'm_ what set him off. I wasn't sensitive enough about what he said. I should've been more sensitive." He berated, "It's just…all this emotional shit's been wearing on me, ya know?" He justified, as if Meyer had any idea what he was talking about, "I just wanted to handle it without all the hand-holding reassurance…but that was fuckin' selfish. God that was _selfish_! He's pregnant. Dealing with this shit, he should get all the girly comfort he wants, right? I should've comforted him."

"Dean." Meyer interjected, "Calm down. Go upstairs and talk to him. You can make up for your lack of girly hand-holding when you get there, huh?" He suggested with a small but amused smile, "Sam will be fine. Oh, and by the way, how was the interview?"

Dean shrugged, "Got the job." He answered simply, racing off toward the stairs.

"Well…congratulations." Meyer said to the empty foyer.

"Sam." Dean whispered as he entered their room, immediately taking notice of a strange smell. Sweat and stale air, from used tissues; his heart lurched in his chest with guilt knowing he'd left his brother here to sob himself into such exhaustion.

Sam rolled over with hopeful eyes at the sound of Dean's voice.

"Sammy," Dean whispered dejectedly, his face falling as he took in the sight of his brother's red eyes and nose, his colored cheeks and lips, his wet lashes and the trails of tear stains on his face.

"I'm sorry Dean. I'm really sorry," Sam apologized as he pulled himself higher up on the bed, "Did I mess you up for your interview? I was such an ass, and for no reason…and now I can't stop crying like a little friggin' girl, but I'm still sorry." Sam rushed sucking in a deep breath once he was finished.

Dean climbed up on the bed curling his arm over Sam's chest, bringing his head down into the crook of his neck, "I got the job Sammy. The one for the store. I'm gonna call and cancel the interview for the construction place, the stores really nice and it's good pay, the hours will work better for us anyway."

Sam was looking up at him in awe when Dean glanced down, "You got a job?" Dean nodded, grinning wide and encouragingly at his brother.

"Thank god, can we forget everything I said this morning? I was being an insecure, needy idiot and-"

"Done." Dean interrupted, "And you weren't being any of that, I understood where you were coming from and I should've been more sensitive about it. I'm as much to blame for all that as you are. I'm sorry Sammy." He whispered pressing his lips to Sam's cheek, "But I'll be around more than you think, don't have to worry about that. And we'll find something for you to do around here while I'm gone. It's gonna be great Sam, and it'll be nice having a stable source of income for once."

Sam agreed unswervingly, his eyes bright with excitement for his brother, "I'm really proud of you Dean."

Dean beamed, "Thanks Sammy. Now let's get you cleaned up man, the place smells like shit." He teased, laughing as he helped Sam out of bed.

"Oh, wow, thanks man. Just what I needed to hear." He deadpanned, shooting Dean a sarcastic smile.

"I figured." Dean said turning the bath on and sitting Sam on the toilet seat, "And uh, well, to celebrate the whole job thing, I was thinking we could go out." He suggested, adjusting the water temperature, "There's this summer carnival thing that's coming up next weekend. If Meyer approves, I was thinkin' maybe we could go, if nothing but for the kick ass food." Dean shrugged, smiling hopefully at his brother, "What do ya say Sammy? Up for a second date, it'll be settin' a record for me."

A slow smile blossomed across Sam's face, "You really are a romantic at heart." He shook his head, "You'll probably even try and take me to the top of the Ferris wheel, steal a kiss…or more appropriately for you a blow job or something." Sam shrugged nonchalantly, pretending to seriously consider the idea.

Dean laughed throatily, throwing his head back, "Damn you know me well." He took a breath, "So…? Is that a yes?"

"Hell yes."

_Review my sweets, and don't complain about any shit writing, just deal;)_

_Love_


	17. Coming in to Stay, Love

_Whooo boy this is a long one, and a part of it is a big first for me! So that's why it's taken so long. I keep finding things I wanna fix and change and rewrite so if I don't just put it up now it'll never go up! Hope you gents enjoy it anyway, even if there's more I'd change (but there's always more I'd change) and let me know what you think _

"Holy shit dude." Sam exhaled, looking adoringly down at his corndog before ripping off another massive bite, "I've never tasted anything so fucking good."

Dean chuckled leading them away from the food stand and to a nearby bench. Dean subtly helped lower Sam down to sit, his brother pulling the baggy sweatshirt away from his body before carefully following him down. "Well then don't hog it all, gimme a taste." He ordered grinning at his brother as he slung an arm over his shoulders.

Sam turned slowly to Dean before hesitantly raising his food out in offering, a strangely blank look on his face. Dean leaned down to take a bite, his eyes way and distrustful, trained on Sam, before his brother punched it up into his face smearing globs of ketchup and mustard all over his lips and cheek.

Sam snickered under his breath, "Tastes good, huh?"

"Oh I'm gonna kill you Sammy." Dean threatened shaking his head before he grabbed the back of Sam's neck and yanked him forward, crashing his lips into his own. Sam protested with a quite squeak and resisted for all of two seconds before the bustling carnival and the smearing sauces melted away into the background and he smiled into the kiss, relaxing.

Dean cracked open his eyes, looking down at Sam's genuinely happy smile, and took a moment to once again appreciate how grateful he was that they were finally out of the house.

The past week had been hell for both of them: a bedridden Sam was in no way fun to be around – for any period of time let alone every free hour of the day. And anytime Dean hadn't been training for his new job, he was with Sam – waiting on him, talking to him, entertaining him, calming him down, cheering him up…it had almost become as much of a job as the hardware store, only worse because that thought made him feel guilty as hell.

He hated watching Sam suffer, he did, and that was basically what the whole week had been for him, he knew that. But after a few days of being on the receiving end of his suffering, being bitched at and complained to and cried over, he was finding it hard to remember who to direct his anger at and who to feel sorry for. Because it hadn't been Sam's fault that he'd been difficult this week, but Dean had lost sight of that a few times, and the guilt ate at him.

But he was putting all that behind him now, it didn't matter. Sam's spirits had lifted a thousand percent just being let out of bed and the carnival had him on cloud nine. Dean was letting the week go from his mind, ready to enjoy this time with the Sammy he'd missed like crazy and bask in the feeling of freedom.

"Dean," Sam whispered as he pulled away, "People are staring." He informed with a small lingering smile as he leaned his forehead to his brothers.

"I couldn't care less." He shot back bringing his hand up to Sam's neck, "We're finally free of that house for the night - you're out of bed, I've got a job…I'm happy as shit dude. And I wanna celebrate."

"Good. Me too." Sam agreed pushing back up into Dean's mouth and licking away the rest of the sauces with gentle, open-mouthed kisses. Dean hummed breathlessly across Sam's cheek, his hand moving up to comb through Sam's hair. He gradually moved his lips down Dean's jaw to nip at his ear, sucking roughly on the lobe.

"Okay…I wanna celebrate, all for that," Dean began a little breathlessly, stifling a groan as Sam's lips moved to suck at the sensitive skin over his pulse, "But if you wanna celebrate like this, we need to move it to the car. Pronto."

Sam chuckled into the crook of Dean's neck, "As much fun as that sounds, we came here for the carnival. Don't know about you but I wanna finish my corn dog and kick your ass in a few of these games." He explained grinning challengingly at his brother even as his expression screamed of sex - his pupils still lust-blown and his cheeks still flushed. Dean was tempted to take him right there, but the words Sam had said slowly began to filter through his mind and register and eventually he nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, we'll see about that little brother." Dean said ruffling Sam's hair as he stood and grabbed Sam's hand to help him stand. He didn't even let go as they started down the crowded pathway toward the games.

"Oh dude, look!" Sam exclaimed, his hand clamping down around Dean's as he pulled them to a stop, "There's a gun game!" He said gesturing across the grassy divider to point out the stand he had spotted. The smile on Sam's face as he turned to Dean was filled with so much hope and excitement he was ready to agree to play with barby dolls so long as it kept Sam happy. Damn he loved that smile.

Dean leaned forward and collided into Sam's lips, belatedly registering his actions as his hand snaked around the back of his neck and back to keep him balanced. He gradually pushed them off the sidewalk and into the grassy alley between two games as he continued plundering his mouth. Sam gasped into the kiss, his hands coming up to thread through Dean's hair, his thigh quickly sneaking up to press into Dean's crotch.

Dean moaned low and loud directly into Sam's ear as he pressed him firmly up against one of the walls, his hands rubbing down his back and into his hips, gripping firmly before letting go.

"Fuck, I love that smile Sam." Dean whispered through his own grin as he chuckled into one of Sam's pecs, shaking his head slowly.

Sam huffed a laugh, "Is that what that was for? Jesus, I'll have to smile more often."

Dean laughed again, lifting his head, "No dude, it was _the_ smile." He explained, trying to keep his tone light even if he was serious, "The one you get when there's nothing you're worried about, nothing you're angry or sad or scared about, even if it's only for that second." He shrugged looking sheepishly at his feet as he dropped a hand from beside Sam's head, backing away a little as he realized how mushy the conversation had just gotten. "I don't know man, you just look happy. And I don't get to see that so purely often," Dean smirked up at his brother, "Sorry I attacked you. We can go play your gun game now."

Sam grinned so hugely his cheeks hurt; he couldn't even help it, "Don't be sorry Dean." He whispered, "It was fucking hot, love it when you get all aggressive and possessive," He breathed a soft laugh coming up to press himself against Dean again, nuzzling into his neck, "And I love that you know me well enough to know my smiles."

"Course I do Sammy. Know everything about you." Dean stated simply.

Sam looked down almost bashfully before shaking his head and grinning wider, "You've gotten a lot sappier in your old age Dean Winchester." He said quietly, teasingly before glancing up under his lashes.

"Oh come on man," Dean retorted pushing off of his brother with a helpless smile, "That's low." He chortled, "Let's go, I need to kick your ass at this game and win my balls back."

Sam laughed throwing his head back before heading over to the stand with his brother. Dean handed over money and their ID's, as you had to be sixteen to play, and watched the moving targets in the background, getting a feel for how everything worked.

He shot a sideways glance at his brother and smirked, seeing the smug look on his face as he too watched the silly metal targets move around the back and pop out in various places.

"Okay boys, everything looks good," The carnie said handing back their ID's and placing a Beebe gun on the counter, "who's up first?"

Dean stood there and looked at Sam expectantly before gesturing to the game, "Ladies first, sweetheart."

Sam cocked a brow tilting his head to the side, a small smile playing at his lips as he turned and faced the counter. The carnie was still standing before him, looking between the two boys confusedly before seeing Sam was up and focusing on him.

"Okay man," The guy said, condescension all over his tone, "now I don't know if you've ever held a gun before, but-"

Sam picked it up confidently and placed it snugly against his shoulder, holding it level and pointed at a target to the side of the carnie, "Yeah, I think I'll figure it out."

The kid shrugged and backed away, "Suit yourself dude. You've got thirty seconds to hit as many targets as you can, you get over ten shots, you get a frog, get over twenty, you get a teddy bear, you get over forty-five, you get a panda." The boy said gesturing to the stuffed animals around him. There were seven pandas stuffed in a back corner and they were enormous, and Sam instantly wanted one.

Sam turned to Dean and smirked all-knowingly, raising one brow quickly before turning back to the game. Dean laughed under his breath and shook his head, feeling an odd sense of giddiness swelling up in his chest at the sight of Sam's confidence. Another thing he'd been missing lately.

"Okay, ready?" Sam nodded and lifted the gun again. "Go!" The carnie ordered and a buzzer sounded as the clock against the back wall started counting down the seconds.

Right away a shot fired followed quickly by a second and third as the gun moved precisely around to aim at the different moving targets. But, as Dean studied what was happening a little closer, he saw not many of them were actually hitting…the targets.

There was a scoreboard off to the side to count off how many shots had hit, and right now, after twenty seconds, Sam had gotten twelve.

Shit.

Dean's heart rate spiked and his fists clenched as he mentally rooted his brother on, hoping and praying with everything he had that Sam's luck would turn around, that he'd get the feel for the gun, that the targets would stop moving and get in front of the damn Beebe's.

By the end of the game though, Sam had only won a teddy bear with a measly twenty-two hits.

Double shit. Sam should've broken the record for this stupid game; Dean's heart was sinking, just knowing how hard this would hit his brother. Dean hadn't even considered how his knew weight or the break from guns would effect Sam's shot, but obviously it had.

"Alright, twenty-two. Not bad." The carnie congratulated dully as he pulled a teddy bear from the line of stuffed animals.

Sam took the toy and backed away from the counter muttering a quiet, "Thanks."

"Alright, next!" The guy called looking around until he spotted Dean in the small crowd of people gathered to watch the players. He waved him over once they made eye contact, but Dean held up a finger to hold him off for a few seconds.

"Alright Sammy, twenty-two's good man-" Dean tried to encourage enthusiastically but was cut off abruptly by him.

"Dude, please don't." He said, his voice quiet and completely dejected. Sam shook his head, looking to the grassy ground under his feet before turning up his gaze, unknowingly shooting Dean his soulful puppy eyes. "Just…win me a panda." He muttered before walking around him, signaling it was time to go up to the counter.

Dean sighed, wishing he could burn the stupid stand down for ruining Sam's rare good mood. But he forced his anger down and approached the carnie who handed over the Beebe and wasted no time starting the buzzer again.

Dean didn't want to make it obvious that he was missing some of the targets for his brother's sake, but he did, not wanting to rub it in his face that he was no longer the shot he used to be, or in turn, the hunter. It had already been a conversation they'd had, an insecurity Sam had admitted to on more than one occasion, and he didn't want this stupid game to be the reason he started thinking about it again.

So he missed by only an inch or so on the ones he didn't hit, making sure that it wasn't apparent, and ended up with forty-seven hits by the time the buzzer sounded again.

The carnie came back out from his blocked off side of the stand, laughing, "Dude, that was freakin' incredible!" He gushed as he moved his step stool to reach up for one of the giant pandas.

Dean nodded giving him a half-hearted smile as he received his prize and quickly left, not wanting anymore praise for a feat so small.

"Alright Sammy, what next?" Dean asked, trying to put excitement in his voice to get Sam back into his own enthusiasm.

"I don't know Dean, you probably don't wanna be lugging that thing around all night. Let's go put it in the car." He suggested calmly, his voice flat but not obviously sad or disappointed. It was clear he was trying to brush off what had happened and continue on with the night. He didn't want pity - that was apparent.

"Yeah, alright. Then maybe we could get some ice cream. I saw a stand on the way in that looked good. Or maybe some kettle corn, or a funnel cake. Man, we gotta get a funnel cake, those things are the shit." Dean enthused as they made their way back to the car. Sam remained quiet, only giving him small, crooked grins when appropriate, but they never looked genuine and it ate at Dean.

Eventually they made it to the car and instead of waiting for Dean to throw in the bear and leave again, Sam climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door behind him. Dean watched him questioningly, waiting for an explanation, but Sam had his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the seat almost as soon as he was in. So Dean made his way around to the back door and threw in the toy before joining Sam in the front.

"What's up Sammy?" Dean asked, but it sounded like more of a quiet demand to be talked to.

"Why did that happen Dean?" Sam asked softly, not opening his eyes or lifting his head, he looked so tired.

"Sam, it's been a while since you've touched a gun, almost over five months now-"

"It's been the same for you Dean. And you were missing those on purpose, your aim clearly hasn't been affected at all."

Dean silently cursed himself for being so see-threw and sighed heavily. "Sam, your body's changed a lot in the past five months. Your balance is off, your hands are a little swollen, I'm sure stuff is starting to ache too. I don't know man, you learned your way around a gun when you were…" He took a moment to search for the word that he wanted, but found he really didn't know how to explain without sounding like an ass.

"Not fat?" Sam supplied flatly.

"No!" Dean cried. Sam's words exactly what he'd been trying to avoid, "Sam, come on, that's not what… I just meant, you learned how to shoot when you were built a little differently is all. It's not a big deal: your aim, and everything else that's been effected, will go back to normal once you…" He gestured vaguely to Sam's stomach, but right away realized that it was a pretty stupid thing to do. He should've finished with damn words: _have the babies_. Why couldn't he say that? – _have the babies_! It's what he meant!

"Aren't fat anymore?" Sam offered again instead, just as flatly.

Okay, he deserved that.

Dean sighed again, feeling incredibly defeated and increasingly irritated, "Have the babies, Sam. Once you have the babies. You're not fat, _you're not fat_, you're. Not. Fat." He emphasized getting fed up with the constantly needed reassurance. "You're pregnant." He stated bluntly, "I know you don't like hearing it out loud, but its true Sam. You're carrying twins, _our_ fucking twins. And frankly, its pretty damn offensive hearing you constantly complain about your body changing when the only reason it is, is because our _healthy_ _kids_ are growing!" Dean ranted heatedly.

"I feel like all I hear is you complaining about them: giving you hormones and making you bigger and changing what you eat and making you sick and turning you into a girl." He panted, "Why can't you just appreciate them? I thought we said before that we'd stop fighting this and accept it, appreciate the gift that it is! Why can't you do that?" He asked accusatorily, his voice growing louder and more frustrated as he finally let go of the pent up anger he'd been holding back this week. It actually felt good to get some of it off his chest, and he almost wanted to keep going until he finally turned and looked at Sam.

Sam, who had been the innocent bystander in all this since the beginning, who now looked so utterly devastated, broken and crushed, Dean wanted to rip his own heart out and set fire to it. The hurt glossing over his eyes, the shocked set of his open mouth and upturned brow…one look at his brother and he wanted to take it all back. He _needed_ to take it all back, because he slowly realized exactly what all had just come out of his mouth, and he hadn't meant any of it.

_Oh god_, he wanted to erase the last minute, just scrub it out of their lives and press the delete button; because Sam would take his words to heart for the rest of his life, and there was really nothing Dean could say now to make him believe he didn't believe it.

He'd just taken out his frustration at not being able to _help_ Sam, on Sam! With harsh words and pent up anger that he really hadn't meant to direct at him, using his own insecurities against him. He'd taken everything out on the entirely wrong person, the one person that he truly never wanted to hurt. The one person he'd been fighting to protect this whole time, he'd just crushed him.

Sam suddenly realized he was staring at Dean, probably recognizing that he was showing every emotion through his eyes alone right now, and swung his head down to look at his lap. His bottom lip caught under his teeth and his face pinched slightly as if in deep concentration, but Dean knew better. He was trying not to cry. Really hard. And Dean could knee himself in the balls twenty times right about now.

Dean's mouth opened and snapped shut a few times, flailing in his desperate regret to figure out something to say. But ironically his brain was scrambling around too fast to come up with anything at all. So they were silent for an achingly long time while Sam tried to compose himself and Dean tried to think straight before finally Sam spoke.

He glanced up at Dean quickly, trying to smile a little to let him know he was alright, though his eyes were bright with tears, before looking back down again, the smile slowly dying from his face. "You're right Dean." He said softly, his voice rough as he tried overly hard to keep the shake and cracking out of it, "I'll try to stop complaining." He relented - completely submissive - his voice scratchy and thick with tears.

Dean stared dumbfounded a moment, unable to believe his brother wasn't ripping his head off right now. He should be ripping his head off right now! He should be yelling and defending himself and his right to complain about whatever the fuck he wanted in this fucked up situation because he _had_ that right. But instead, he did this. He curled up and gave in?

It made Dean feel like the lowest piece of shit on the face of the planet.

"Sam, I," Dean started desperately, his voice high and strained, "_No_." He said, dejecting Sam's whole response completely, "Don't…please don't say that, man. Don't just give in to my idiot ass like that!" He ordered, his voice growing louder again before he saw Sam move away from him, closer to the window, and calmed his tone again, "That - what I said, it came out all wrong. I-I had no right to say any of that, Sam. I have no idea what you're going through with this, but God sure as hell knows I'd be complaining 24/7 if I were you, dealing with everything you have to." Dean shook his head, leaning closer to Sam to grasp his forearm lightly, "Sammy, I didn't mean what I said, I swear. I've told you before plenty of times how proud I am of you for the way you've handled this, for how strong you've been, those weren't lies, I promise you. _That_ I meant.

"This was just, I don't know…. I've been stressed out Sam. Getting the new job and thinking about you this week - trying to figure out some way to help you while you were stuck in that damn bed…there's just been a lot on my mind, and a lot that felt out of my control the past few days. It's really just been driving me kinda crazy." He admitted, desperation rushing his words, "But I took out my frustrations on you, and that's inexcusable but that's all that was. I'm _sorry_ Sammy, I didn't-"

"Dean." Sam quietly interrupted, taking a long moment for a deep breath, leaving Dean waiting anxiously for him to continue, "I'm feeling a little tired, I'd really like it if we could go home now." He said just as softly, his voice a mere whisper of a breath, but now less hurt and submissive and more just…dead.

Damnet Dean had really fucked up.

He sucked in a quick breath to say something more but soon released it, knowing there was nothing more he could say, especially right now, to make Sam believe him.

So they drove home, in complete silence, both still wearing their bright, neon green bracelets from the carnival – a strangely sad reminder of a night that had started out so perfectly, in nothing but careless laughter, and ended in silent tears.

Tears that Dean could see shining on his brother's left cheek all the way home.

Dean was so beyond furious with himself by the time they made it home that he couldn't physically get himself to move from the car for at least ten minutes after Sam had left. He simply sat there, listening to nothing but his own berating thoughts and trying to figure _something_ he could say to fix this.

It was already eleven, he knew Bobby and Meyer were asleep, but he was almost tempted to go wake one of them up and explain what happened so they could comfort his brother. Because at this point, he was sure anything else he said would only make things worse.

But after a minute of debating that idea, he let it go, figuring he couldn't allow himself the luxury of shoving his problems off on other people: he'd done this, he needed to be the one to fix it.

So with heavy feet and an anchor for a heart, he dragged himself from the car and went inside, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water before going straight up to their room. Sam was unsurprisingly lying on his bed facing away from the door, curled in a ball on his side and clutching his pillow like a lifeline. He looked too small for his frame in that bed, too broken for his usual confident stature. And _he_ had caused it all.

Dean stood in the doorway for a minute, studying his brother, wondering where he should go and what he should do, feeling too utterly helpless and small and stupid to move before eventually pulling himself together again and making a decision. He headed over to the nightstand, put down the water and, throwing caution to the wind, boldly climbed right into bed with his brother, curling up around his back and holding him protectively to his chest.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam muttered distantly, his voice still small and emotionless, even though the sound of his plugged nose suggested otherwise.

"Sammy please," He begged, his heart braking at the sound of his brother's voice, "Even if I say I'm sorry a thousand times, I know you won't believe me so just please, let me stay here tonight." Dean whispered reverently, "Let me hold you, and…make this up to you. However I can. I'm such a fucking idiot but please, give me a chance to show you how much I love you. How much I _swear_ to god I didn't mean it."

Sam let out a trembling sigh and relaxed in Dean's arms, done fighting him before he turned over to look at his brother, rolling his shoulder into Dean's chest.

Dean loosened his hold on Sam to let him move, but almost immediately regretted it, hating what he saw on his brother's face: tear tracks shimmering on his face, his lips parted and red, puffing out in short breaths and his eyes still so full of aching pain, Dean almost couldn't stand to meet his gaze.

"Dean," Sam began in a whisper, his tone different this time, less dead and more desperate. He looked as if he were about to go on, his eyes dancing back and forth between his brother's and his mouth hanging open, but he stopped and dropped his stare once again, gnawing on his bottom lip with that concentrated look.

"God damnet man," Sam continued, his voice gaining some volume as he shook his head and moved away from Dean, "Get off." He demanded pushing more roughly than necessary at Dean's chest and hand, lightly stroking across the bulge of his belly. Dean complied dolefully and moved back a few inches so no part of them touched anymore as Sam propped himself up on his elbow.

"You…. Fuck, man, I feel like I can't even explain this to you anymore." Sam said quietly and mostly to himself, frustration evident in his tone before he took a breath and started again, "Dean…you were the one person in the world that I felt I could tell anything, for as long as I can remember." Sam said shakily, his voice thick and off key, as if trying to keep the appropriate emotions out of his tone, "And even though that was tested, going through all this, I still went to you. Even if it felt like when I did I was just burdening you with more of my crap.

"But after, what you said…I feel like - like I can't do that anymore. Like I can't come to you, like I lost the right somehow." He shook his head looking down, causing a few more tears to break loose, rolling rapidly down his already wet cheeks, "I can't go to you with whatever's on my mind anymore because now it's like I…just found out that all this time I've been confiding in you with my - my problems and insecurities, you've been thinking in the back of you're head just, 'shut up Sam, quit complaining.'" Sam explained, pausing every few seconds for hiccupped breaths and sniffling as he continued to fight his tears.

"And I _know_ that you know I've felt like a burden since this whole thing started, keeping you from hunting and our regular life and traveling and whatever because you feel responsible to take care of me…but then, you said yourself, that I shouldn't feel like that." He said, his voice rising as if trying desperately to prove a point. He paused briefly and his face crumpled for just one second before he sucked in another breath, holding back a sob and exhaling slowly and shakily, regaining his composure, "Said you were proud of me and whatever…and now I feel like its all been a lie. That you've been getting fed up with me and my _complaining_ all this time and that maybe I was right all along about think you wanted to leave. Maybe you'll leave now man, I don't know-"

"_Sam_." Dean cut in urgently, not being able to take hearing any more of that and finally getting his brother to look up at him. He knew he had his own tears falling from his eyes now and saw right away when Sam noticed them, the quite shock on his face. "How-" His voice broke and he cleared his throat, "How could you possibly get all that from one stupid thing I said? Do you really have that little faith in me? _I love you_ Sam, more than anything in this whole fucking world and you think from one stupid lapse in my shaky self control, one blow up of irrational anger, that _everything_ I've said through this has been a lie?" He asked incredulously, his brow crumpling over his watering eyes as another small tear clung to his cheek and rolled.

Sam looked at him with subtle hope in his leaking eyes, wanting so much to believe his brother's words and cautiously allowing himself a little room to do so as Dean scooted forward on the bed again, coming closer until they could feel each other's body heat, near but not quite touching.

"Sammy I'm so sorry for what I said, okay?" He said tilting his head down to rest his forehead against Sam's, "I'm even more sorry for how hard you took it. But please don't ever think you can't talk to me, please. It would kill me if you started keeping things from me now." Dean choked out, his voice coarse and cracking through his shameful tears, "'Cause it's always been just you and me man, that's how it is. Don't change that now cause I was an idiot."

Dean took in a deep, slightly quaking breath and went on, "I promise, you can bitch or complain or scream or cry to me all you want, whenever you want - I swear I won't judge you and I never have." He promised, sincerity dripping from every word, "I only said what I did because I was aggravated from this week and I kept saying the wrong thing in the car, trying to make you feel better but only making you feel worse…and I just blew up. I took that anger at myself out on you and it was horrible and pathetic and one of the stupidest things I've done in a while, but you have to know I didn't mean a word of it." Dean vowed, looking deeply into his brother's eyes, making sure he knew every word was earnest.

Sam took only a few seconds to soak in his brother's speech before he leaned forward to rest back on Dean's forehead and nodded, closing his eyes, "Okay." He whispered, the word emanating understanding and forgiveness, "I believe you." Sam sighed, "Please don't do that to me again."

Dean's heart sank but he nodded quickly anyway, brushing a hand down Sam's face. "Never Sammy. I'm so sorry."

"'S okay." He whispered, backing away from Dean a moment later to scrub a hand down his face, getting rid of his tears and sniffling to clear his nose as much as he could, "There's something I have to make sure you understand though…" Sam began, making Dean tense in fearful anticipation, "I don't resent our babies because they're making me bigger, I _don't_. It's frustrating dealing with the side effects, but I don't blame or resent them for it at all, I swear. I love them, more than I think anyone understands. I just…hope you know that, even when I complain."

Dean sighed, looking sorrowfully at his brother again and hating that he'd ever made him question that. "Of course Sammy, I do." Dean swore, nodding, "And I get it, how you feel about them, too. I feel the same way." He alleged, taking one long moment to look into Sam's finally dry eyes, and lean in to kiss him, just chastely touching their lips together for a second before pulling back and doing it again. Sam still couldn't breath through his nose so Dean made sure his mouth wasn't occupied for more than a few seconds at a time, but pecked him with openmouthed kisses before moving down his cheek, kissing and licking away the salty remnants of his tears.

Sam sighed softly in contentment as he relaxed back into the bed, Dean hovering half way over him and tracing every inch of skin at his neck with his tongue and teeth and lips. Sam scrubbed a hand through Dean's short spikes, scratching his nails lightly across his scalp and drawing a soft, whispered moan from his brother, relishing in the sound.

Dean bit at Sam's collarbone in turn, eliciting his own echoing groan before he lifted his head, looking into Sam's bright eyes, lit with lust and smoldering desire, and moved his free hand up and down Sam's side, brushing at the sensitive parts of his ribs and hip on every pass. Sam shivered and jolted at the touch as little shocks of pleasure shot their way through him and Dean's mouth fell back down to the other side of his neck, nibbling at his ear.

Sam gasped softly and gently arched off the bed as Dean's fingers stilled on one pass at Sam's waistband and tentatively dipped under, slowly caressing the beginning of the soft curls nestled around his cock. But Dean slipped his hand back out a moment later in favor of unbuttoning his brother's jeans and removing them completely, pushing himself to sit up and move down the bed, slipping off the end to stand.

He grasped the legs of Sam's jeans and started tugging, slowly inching them past Sam's hips before getting them loose and sliding them off. He quickly tossed them to the floor and pulled off Sam's socks, looking over his brother's less-clothed form with wanton eyes and rapidly working his own jeans and boxers off, his socks following. Dean threw off his shirt a moment later and climbed onto bed with his half clothed brother, sneaking his way up between Sam's spread legs and descending toward his mouth, gently pushing their lips together once more.

Sam's breathing was labored just watching Dean undress in front of him, but seeing him climb down the bed to _straddle_ him, naked, feeling every muscle moving in precise rhythm under all that taut, bronze skin - it was hard getting his lungs to work with how fast his heart was pumping in his chest now.

"Fuck Dean," Sam whispered, worshipfully staring at his excited green eyes, "I love you." He breathed, hardly audible as he ran the tips of his fingers down Dean's face, over his closed eyes and parted lips, down to curl around the base of his neck and pull him forward. He moved him down enough to get his lips by his ear, breathing softly into his hair, "I forgive you." He whispered tenderly, his voice soft and clear, as if sharing a vital secret.

Dean exhaled heavily into the pillow by Sam's head, tightening his hold around his brother and rolling his hips down into the heat of his body, "Ah, God, Sammy. I love you too. Thank you." He whispered soulfully, every inch of his heart poured into the statement as his chest tightened and swelled with the overwhelming gratitude and nagging unworthiness at being forgiven.

Dean pushed the feelings away for the moment and focused on Sam as he started a slow, sensual rhythm rolling his dick down into Sam's groin, reveling in the shared heat and friction and gripping his back as he held him close, rocking their bodies together. "Oh God you feel good Sammy." Dean sighed, turning his head into Sam's neck, dipping his tongue out to lick the salty sweat that had begun to gather there, "Missed you."

Sam groaned low in his throat as he pushed up against Dean's cock, wishing his boxers were off now so he could _feel_ him, "You too, fuck Dean you too. Please…get these off." He said under his breath, snaking a hand down to tug at his underwear frantically.

"Okay baby, okay." Dean hushed pushing up off his brother to scoot down, "I'll take care of you." He pushed Sam's legs up to get them out from under him, placing his feet on his chest as he pulled at the waistband and tugged them down his legs.

Dean sighed blissfully looking down at Sam, running his hands up and down the sides of his thighs and breathing heavily as he looked over his brother again, taking in the new coveted sight. Sam's cock, thick and beautiful and hard as rock for him, bobbing against his still covered belly and leaking precome into the fabric as it twitched in anticipation for what was to come.

Dean placed Sam's feet back down on the bed before moving forward on his knees until his bent legs were straddling Sam's ass, his brother's legs still propped up and now draped over his own. The position pressed Dean's balls to Sam's ass and he rolled into the contact on instinct, leaning forward to rub their cocks together, bringing Sam's legs up with him.

"Ugh Dean, shit," Sam moaned bringing his hands up around Dean's back, his blunt nails carving into his flexed muscles, holding on for his life as their bodies continued rocking together, gently moving the bed with their momentum.

"Sam, baby." Dean breathed into his ear, clutching him tighter as he thrust down into him particularly hard, their dicks aligned just right for the perfect teasing friction. "Sammy, I-" Dean slowed down, swallowing his words as he caught his breath, keeping his mouth close to Sam's ear.

"Fuck…I want you, wanna feel you, in every way I can," He breathed meaningfully before backing up, his eyes intense as they bore into Sam's and his hips still gyrating into his brother's: slower, gently.

"I want you inside me, Sam." He whispered against the skin of Sam's cheek, ducking his head as his soft voice broke in and out, his breathing unsteady and erratic. His nerves were on fire with anticipation and fear and lust and love and thousand other things he couldn't name.

"Dean," Sam began, his breathing harsh but steadily slowing as they stopped moving against each other, "Are you – are you sure? I mean I don't – I've never…" He stopped to breath, "Never done that before." He stuttered uneasily, excited by the prospect but fearful of the real thing, scared he'd mess it up or look like an idiot, fumbling around without a clue of what to do.

"Neither have I." Dean shook his head gently, a droplet of sweat dripping from his nose to Sam's chest, "We'll figure it out together." He shrugged smoothly, "But only if you feel comfortable, Sam, I really don't want to pressure you into anything. If it's too soon, just say the word and you know there are plenty of other things we can do. But if you want to, and you feel ready, I want to." Dean said softly, his elbows on either side of Sam's head as his hands caressed through his hair, giving him time to think.

Sam looked into Dean's eyes, which were studying him reverently, looking at his lips and nose and his own hands moving through his damp locks, and decided he'd never feel more ready for this than he did right now. He knew for sure that the only other person he'd ever want to share this with was right there in front of him, being as gentle and loving and patient as ever, and decided right then he wanted this just as much as Dean did.

Sam leaned up and kissed him with every ounce of passion in his body, pushing his hips up into Dean's again and using his legs, hooked around Dean's back, to pull himself up and slide, getting the friction he desired.

"Yes Dean, I want to. I want to know every inch of you…bury myself inside you, be connected to you in every way I can be." Sam whispered heatedly, the intensity of his desire poured into every word, "I want to make love to you." He breathed, his voice tapering off at the end until it was nearly silent, but Dean heard anyway and groaned awe-fully, nodding his approval into his brother's chest as they continued swaying into each other.

Dean closed his eyes, clinging to Sam, his lashes brushing against his brother's skin, before he moved to take one of his nipples into his mouth, sucking gently before biting down and tugging. Sam jerked up against his mouth, his hands coming down to hold Dean's head in place as he cried out softly in surprise, muffling his following breathy moans into Dean's hair.

"Okay, okay stop, m'not gonna last if we keep doing this." Sam whispered, breathing a shaky laugh before Dean slowed down and sluggishly lifted up.

He smiled at Sam softly, dazedly nodding, "Yeah, good idea." He paused a minute, looking at Sam's oversized black t-shirt still hanging loosely around his frame, before running his hand through Sam's sweaty bangs and pushing them out of his eyes.

"Sam," He whispered, his voice whiskey-scratched but quiet in the room, "I want all of you for this." He admitted, moving his hand to Sam's shirt, running his fingers along the seams, "You get every part of me, I think I should get the same." Dean voiced gently, knowing how sensitive the topic it was.

Sam eyed his shirt uneasily before looking back up to Dean, "Sammy, you're so fuckin' beautiful no matter what you do, you know _this_," He said running his hands over Sam's stomach, "doesn't change that, not for me. I've told you before so please, let me see all of you. I need all of you if were going to do this." He pleaded softly, still rubbing warmly at Sam's clothed stomach.

Sam's heart rate sped up slightly before he sighed and relented, nodding as he propped himself up on his elbows. Dean helped him sit the rest of the way up and move back against the pillows for support, still straddling his lap.

"Lift your arms brother." Dean requested gently, his voice deep in his chest as waited for Sam. And he did, though hesitantly, looking straight at Dean before his brother took the hem of his shirt and slid it up over him and off his arms, throwing it over the bed.

Dean looked over the tan torso he'd seen a million times before and studied all the new changes he'd missed since the last time he saw him. Sam's chest was still wide and built, his pecs hard and shaped with muscle, but the slim waist that it once tapered into was almost gone, replaced with his now even rounder belly, and the hips that once jutted out from his flat stomach were now nearly hidden, tucked away under the growing children inside.

"Fuck you're incredible Sammy." Dean said running his hands over his brother's distended stomach lovingly before falling forward again and into Sam's lips. Their tongues massaged and stroked and battled, sending thrills and sparks straight to their cocks and teasing them both to the point of physical pain. Dean finally had enough after a few intense minutes and pulled away, breathing heavily into Sam's mouth as he deliberately took one of Sam's hands in his own and pulled it up to his lips, never taking his eyes away from him.

He kissed each fingertip worshipfully before slowly descending the warm depth of his mouth around three of them. Sam gasped quietly and arched under Dean's weight, spreading and flexing his fingers in his mouth, knowing exactly how all the wet warmth felt surrounding his dick – the thought driving him mad.

Then the realization of what he'd be doing with his now wet fingers slammed into him, almost making him come on the spot as he groaned lowly, arcing under Dean as he sucked hard one last time before pulling his hand out.

"Ready baby?" Dean asked quietly, his lips still brushing lightly over his fingers.

"Should be asking you that." Sam replied, his voice soft and gravelly, the undercurrents of his nerves clear in his tone.

"I'm ready," he nodded confidently despite the shake in his shoulders.

"Me too."

Dean gave him a shaky smirk before dropping his gaze, sucking in a short breath to speak softly, "Sammy, I…just…wanna make sure you know - this will hurt a little at first. For me, I mean." He explained in a near whisper, lifting his eyes to his brother's again, "And I know it will, it always does, 'specially for people who've, ya know, never done it before, but I'm ready for it. So if I flinch or something, don't be surprised, and don't stop. It'll just take me a minute to adjust and then we'll keep going, okay? It'll be good once I'm used to you, I promise. Just don't stop, alright?" He asked, hoping he hadn't just scared his brother out of doing this.

"I don't wanna hurt you Dean." Sam whispered, sounding all of five years old again as he looked up to his brother anxiously.

Dean's brow crumpled as he smiled sweetly down at his fearful-looking brother, "Don't be scared." He whispered, comforting somberly as he ran his hand down Sam's cheek before tightening his grip on the back of his Sam's neck reassuringly, "Sammy, I didn't tell you that to scare you out of doing this. I just wanted you to be prepared, so you won't freak out in the middle of it and want to stop." He explained gently, "Because I want this, Sam. I want you, in every way possible, and I don't want anything to get in the way of that." He explained and once he was sure that Sam was okay again, swooped down to catch his lips.

Dean spared a few extra seconds to enjoy the feel of his brother before backing away and re-wetting his fingers, slowly letting go of Sam's wrist before sitting up on his knees, lifting himself from his brother's lap.

Sam's breath stuttered out of him in a deep groan as he watched Dean lift his hips, allowing him access to the most personal place on his body, trusting him completely and letting himself be vulnerable to experience this with him. Sam coveted that more than anything.

He lifted a hand to grip Dean's right pectoral, gradually moving his palm up and over his shoulder to bring him forward, making him rest on his hands on the headboard above him and staring up at him one last time before focusing on his task, hoping beyond hope that this part of it wouldn't hurt Dean.

Sam leaned forward and kissed his brother's taut stomach, feeling the muscles ripple under him as his hand moved between Dean's legs, giving his dick two hard tugs before moving further down, brushing over his balls until he found his crack, sliding his wet fingers along the crease. Dean grunted at the contact, his head tipped forward, watching Sam intently as he worked.

His deft fingers spread Dean's cheeks until he was exposed, slowly gliding forward to circle his clenched hole. "Relax," Sam breathed against Dean's belly, kissing him again, dipping his tongue in his belly button before licking at the head of his cock.

Dean's breath released in a rush as he curled in on himself, his stomach tensing at the little shock of pleasure that shot through him. And then his muscles slowly began relaxing under Sam's massaging finger, "That's it big brother," Sam cooed, smirking when Dean gasped at hearing the words before groaning lowly, his hand fisting in Sam's hair. There was something about the _dirty_-_bad_-_wrong_ of hearing those words in the middle of _this_ that just set Dean off.

"Fuck, yes Sammy, damnet. Feel so amazing." He grunted out as Sam's slick mouth began kitten-licking his cock, trying to keep Dean relaxed as he gradually pressed his forefinger into him.

Sam backed up an inch and looked up to Dean, his hair disheveled and sweaty, his eyes lust-blown and wide and his intent gaze questioning as he continued pushing his way in. Dean was so turned on by the mere sight alone he thought he might die of a heart attack right there on the spot.

"It's okay Sammy, feels fine. Keep goin'." He encouraged breathlessly.

Sam circled his finger around, slowly beginning to pump it in and out of him and soon, Dean started rocking back into it, his hips and abs brushing along Sam's cheek every time his hips pumped forward and fell back.

"Alright Sammy, you can gimme another." Dean slurred, his voice fucked-out and raspy as his head ducked down onto his forearms folded over the top of the headboard to peer down at what Sam was doing.

"It's dry now," Sam whispered glancing back up at Dean as if asking what to do before lowering his head and slowly working himself out. He brought his hand back to his lips and wet his second finger, Dean watching with concentrated desire before Sam sighed into Dean's skin as his hand went back down. His other stroked up and down Dean's side as he worked in two fingers this time, feeling only a little more resistance.

Dean just grunted and pushed back into his hand, forcing him in, "Shit Sam," Dean yelled in a whisper, throwing his head back, "Oh fuck, the…the tips of your fingers, push them against, right there-"

Dean's words broke off into a desperate, keening moan as Sam did as he was sort of told and watched Dean's expression crumple into fervent pleasure as he continued massaging what Sam could only guess was his prostate. Dean grunted every time Sam's fingers passed over that spot, pushing up into it roughly after stroking it lightly, driving him absolutely crazy.

"Sam, Sam." Dean begged, "Okay. Enough, stop. M'gonna…gonna come. You gotta stop dude."

But instead of pulling out or stilling his movements like Dean asked, Sam roughly worked in another finger, knowing the burn of a quicker stretch would stave his brother off for a while. Dean jerked in surprise before crying out softly, looking down at his brother accusatorily, "Sam," He protested lightly, moving further up on his knees, trying to get away from his brother's hand but Sam just followed, continuing to force in his finger in until he reached his last knuckle.

"Well, your not gonna blow now." Sam said grinning a little up at Dean who stared down at him with mild irritation, "And I've got three in," He said, his voice seductively low and coarse as he wiggled his fingers inside of him, emphasizing his point and cutting Dean off before he could dwell on what he'd done or reprimand him for it further.

"Oh shit," Dean hissed as Sam began playing with his prostate again; he hunched his body forward as crashing wave after wave of pleasure scrambled his brain and coursed through his already spent body, wracking his bones.

Sam was looking intently up at Dean again as he pumped his hand in and out of him, that tense, burning heat surrounding his fingers - he couldn't imagine finally being submerged in all that. His cock jumped on his belly every time Dean moaned or jerked or tensed, basking in the sight of his brother coming apart under his hands so beautifully.

"Sam, I'm ready." Dean announced, slipping his head further down his arms to look at his brother, "God I wanna feel you, can't wait to be filled up with you baby." He said moving a hand down to caress Sam's sweaty, flushed cheek, his eyes closing again as Sam's hand subtly shifted inside him. "Pull out Sammy, lemme get you wet." Dean whispered dipping his thumb in just barely between Sam's parted lips.

Sam huffed a quick breath, slamming his eyes shut at that prospect, his lips closing around Dean's finger as he gently pulled his hand out.

Dean hissed quietly as his inner walls were pulled and Sam removed his fingers, wondering briefly if there was any kind of lube around. As he glanced down at Sam's thick, easily eight-inch cock, he knew spit probably wouldn't be enough to keep him from tearing.

"Um, actually Sammy," Dean whispered tenderly, sitting back on Sam's lap, "I'm gonna get some lotion from the bathroom, make things easier on us." He smiled warmly at his brother before hopping off the bed and rushing to the bathroom, quickly returning with a bottle of unscented lotion and setting it beside them.

He squirted some onto his hand and rubbed his palms together, warming the cream to put it on Sam.

"Dean, I'm a lot bigger than three fingers," Sam said tentatively, watching his brother's hands rub together quickly, "I'm gonna hurt you." He whispered, grasping Dean's wrist to stop him.

But Dean just gently took his wrist from Sam's grasp and moved toward his cock, slowly spreading the generous amount of slick cream over his painfully hard member and ignoring his apprehensive words for now, distracting him. Sam gasped and one of his legs twitched up on instinct, holding his brother closer as his stomach tensed, hunching his body forward "Dean," He keened breathlessly, his back slowly bending to arc gracefully off the headboard, still trying somewhere in the recesses of his incoherent mind to protest.

"It'll be okay Sammy." Dean breathed against Sam's lips, "I want this." He swore as he finished lathering him and pulled his hand away, "You want me to ride you, or do you wanna be on top?" He asked under his breath against Sam's cheek, moving down to his neck to nip and lick at the salty skin.

"Up to you." Sam said breathlessly, his nerves jumping as they got closer and closer to actually doing this and suddenly, he was immensely grateful for how comfortable and how well they knew each other, unable to imagine how this could potentially go if they didn't.

"This is fine if you're alright, I kinda don't wanna be in control of this one." Sam admitted, running his hands down Dean's shoulders and down to his hips, holding him lightly for his own comfort. Dean nodded in understanding and gave him a small smile before bending down to push his lips to his again, forcing them open and sneaking out his tongue, dancing it across the sharp edge of Sam's teeth as his hand moved down to begin stroking himself, preparing himself for the next step.

But Sam soon swatted his hand away and took over, pumping him languidly, teasingly and making sure to keep him desperate and somewhat distracted. Dean though, even through his dizzying haze of lust, managed to open his eyes and peer down to seek out Sam's cock, taking it in his own grip and lifting himself up onto his knees, guiding the tip to his slightly worked hole and holding it there.

Dean was thankful for Sam's continued distraction, but at the first real nudge of Sam's cock, he clenched down instinctively, blocking Sam from any chance at breaching him. Sam groaned at their contact but felt Dean's obvious resistance and slowed his breathing to talk.

"Shh baby," Sam whispered deliriously, having been too close to the edge for too long to be thinking completely clearly, "It's just me." He coaxed, focusing his bleary eyes on Dean, "Breath and relax, it's okay." Sam soothed, running his free hand up and down Dean's tensed stomach muscles. He stopped his ministrations for a moment though and turned to the side, stopping Dean from going on as well, and squirted another glob of lotion into his palm, rubbing it over a few fingers.

He found Dean's exposed hole again and rubbed the lotion against him slowly, getting him used to the feeling again, trying to get him to let go. "Relax," Sam breathed again, continuing to run his other hand over Dean's stomach and cock and gradually, Dean started breathing more steadily, his muscles slowly unwinding.

Dean took quick advantage of the opportunity and guided Sam's dick back to his hole, letting his body weight lower him down as Sam began jerking him again, more steadily to keep him as relaxed as he could. Dean held his breath as he felt about an inch of Sam slip into him, stopping immediately once the ridge of his head slipped past the first tight ring of muscle.

And the burn was there. It hurt a lot, like he expected it to - Sam's cock was nothing to laugh at - but he'd been prepared for all of it and it was manageable. Especially with Sam still stroking his dick, albeit a little unsteadily now, as he bit down on his bottom lip, trying hard to stifle his moans through his heavy panting. Watching Sam succumb to his pleasure like that made just about anything bearable.

"God fucking damnet, Dean. You're so tight…never…never felt anything…" Sam panted drifting off as he lost himself in the overwhelming sensations of slowly being buried in Dean's body. "Incredible." He finished on a breath before crying out quietly into the crook of Dean's neck as he dropped down another inch.

Dean was huffing as hard as Sam was, his legs shaking with the effort of keeping himself still and raised a few inches above Sam's body, hovering over him. His hands that'd been resting on his own thighs suddenly shot up to Sam's shoulders to keep himself balanced as he began to slip farther down, unable to hold himself up anymore but unable to take anymore either.

"Shit," he hissed, grinding his teeth as he balanced himself, slowly wrapping his arms around Sam's neck and grounding himself as he accommodated the new depth and stretch, trying hard to keep himself steady and focus through the fiery ache and sting.

Dean's arms slapping down onto Sam's shoulders shook him out of his blissful daze, making him immediately aware of Dean's pain as his eyes shot open and he looked up at his brother's pinched grimace. Sam caught his breath with one gulp of air, his heart rate spiking as he saw Dean struggling with the stretching burn, with his ability to stay upright, and panicked. "Okay Dean, hang on baby, let's lay back, it'll make it easier on your legs." Sam whispered hurriedly, rubbing Dean's back and thighs, trying to get him to focus on him.

But Dean shook his head, still panting pretty hard but obviously still coherent, "Need to bottom out first." He breathed back, "Can't move like this, it's okay, m'alright, just need…a sec."

"Dean," Sam started to argue, _needing_ to help his brother before eventually realizing he really couldn't and opted to simply stay completely still and trail his fingers over Dean's skin, lightly pumping him and waiting anxiously for him to adjust. Soon he noticed his brother's breathing suddenly change, slowing down to deep, steady breaths before he was slammed with another coursing flood of pleasure as Dean lowered a few more inches.

Sam's breath punched out of him in a great whoosh before he growled lowly, clutching at Dean with every ounce of strength he had, focusing harder than anything on not bottoming out for his brother. Sam's hands ran jerkily down Dean's torso, stopping at his hips to hold on tight, using every ounce of will power he had to restrain himself. He took a few calming, stuttering breaths and whispered, "You okay?" as he turned his head to kiss Dean's flexed forearm shakily, noticing his brother trembling as he kept himself up on Sam's shoulders.

Dean's scrunched eyes slowly opened before he dropped his weight quickly, keeping his gaze locked with Sam's as he suddenly bottomed out, finally resting his legs and relaxing his arms. "Holy fuck," He cursed, ducking his head, his hands squeezing Sam's shoulders as he breathed heavily, focusing on relaxing and adjusting through a rush of pain that had his eye blurring white. Sam watched him worriedly trying to focus through his own overriding pleasure to make sure his brother was okay, rubbing his arms up and down Dean's torso and whispering quiet reassurances as clearly as he could.

"You…are fucking…_giant_, Sam." Dean breathed in between pants, punctuating every word carefully as he huffed a gentle laugh, trying to catch his breath as he held himself completely still on Sam's lap.

"Sorry, sorry baby, don't wanna hurt you. But fuck, _shit_…it feels good on this end." Sam whispered back keeping his shaking hands trailing over Dean's sweaty skin, hoping to soothe his pain in any way he could. Dean laughed shakily again before giving a slow, experimental rock of his hips, hearing Sam suck in a sharp breath, feeling his hands stop their calming trail over his skin to claw at him, chocking out a desperate sound deep in his lungs. Dean groaned at the same time, "Jesus, I swear I can feel you all the way up in my chest." Dean whispered before smirking lightly at Sam's reaction.

"Oh God Dean." Sam praised, his head falling forward onto Dean's chest as his dick was tortured in all that scorching heat, just squeezed and held completely still inside, bottomed out for what felt like centuries. He wanted to flip Dean onto his back, slide out of him and _slam_ back in; the tease was unbearable.

Dean let out a long, deep growl as he finally put Sam out of his obvious misery and lifted a few inches before sinking back down quickly, feeling Sam's dick ride over his prostate and fill him up in a way he didn't think was possible. It finally felt good.

"Sam, Sammy, Jesus," Dean groaned, the sound animalistic and frantic, "Ah fuck, I'm full. So fucking full," He keened, whispering in awe as he lifted up again and crashed back down, eliciting a quick and sharp cry from Sam who hurriedly stifled the sound by biting down onto a chunk of flesh in Dean's chest, clawing his nails into his back.

"Oh fuck, Sam, _fuck_." Dean blathered unintelligibly as he wrapped his arms back around Sam's shoulders, cradling his head to his chest with a hand tangled into his hair, the other squeezing his shoulder as he picked up a gentle rhythm and began rocking his hips, lifting and sinking down onto Sam's cock over and over, reverently.

Sam thrust up into Dean every time he came down, his knees brought up behind Dean and his arms wrapped around his back, clutching at his shoulder's from behind as he brought his hips up to clash into Dean's again and again. Sam's body curled in on itself and wrapped tighter around him as they picked up their rhythm, slamming into each other harder and harder as their intense pleasure grew.

A new curse fell from Dean's lips every time he bottomed out for the next handful of thrusts before he muttered, "Close Sammy…fucking close. I can feel you everywhere, fuck God you're everywhere." He muttered dazedly before pulling his head up from where he'd let it rest tipped back to meet Sam's bright hazel eyes, "I love you. So fucking much." He declared softly, rocking sensually over Sam's tensed body and studying his pleasured grimace before leaning forward, never losing his pace, and plunging toward Sam's lips. He brought a hand up to cup his cheek, holding him in place as he slowed his rhythm slightly, focusing on the kiss.

Sam took advantage of the break in their intense, rough pace to push at Dean's shoulders and topple them backwards until Dean was on his back, staying inside of him as they tumbled gracelessly to the bed.

Dean moaned as the jostling shoved Sam deeper into him, reaching places inside he didn't know existed, and then took a second to catch his breath, holding onto Sam with a death grip.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean asked breathlessly, rubbing his hand down Sam's stomach.

"Perfect Dean. Never felt so fucking good in my life…so alive." He whispered before tugging himself out slowly, letting his head fall into Dean's collar bone before he slammed himself back in, just as he'd fantasized doing before. And he wanted to _scream_ through that pleasure, but somewhere in his head he knew Meyer and Bobby were still around, so once again he bit down into Dean and whimpered feverishly into his skin, letting go of a few harsh sobs of pleasure as he clutched to Dean.

"Shit," Dean cursed, "Easy Sammy," He cooed stroking his hands through his brother's long hair until he released his jaw, panting.

"Sorry," He breathed, "Sorry, fuck…it's hard being quiet." Sam explained shaking his head before pulling out again and shoving himself back in, starting up a new rhythm grinding his teeth roughly.

Dean groaned, rumbling deep in his chest, "Yeah," He grunted as Sam's hips came flush up against his ass, "Know what you mean. Fuck," His hand clawed at Sam's back again, scrambling for purchase as he felt a familiar, but shockingly intense wave of heat flood his lower belly, "'M close Sammy." He sobbed before biting into his own white-knuckled fist.

"Oh Jesus fuck," Sam ground out pounding into Dean faster and faster, their skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet room, "Me too. I'm there Dean, fuck I'm there." He whispered before ducking his head into Dean's chest, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm before he threw his head back and slammed in two more times, coming harder than he ever had in his life as he filled up his brother with his seed.

The friction of Sam's belly and his own rubbing over his dick, the feel of Sam's heat filling him up, watching the tortured expression of Sam's face as he came - mouth opened in a silent scream and nose scrunched, eye brows drawn close together - had Dean's balls tightening painfully up into his body before shooting his load more intensely than he thought possible, marking both their bodies with more of his release than he'd ever given at one time.

Sam's hips continued jerking unsteadily as he rode through every upsurge of his orgasm, his breath stuttering out of him as he finally ran out of breath, grunting sharp groans and whimpers as his head dropped down to nuzzle in Dean's neck.

Dean kept his teeth clenched tight around his fist, trying not to break too many layers of skin as he kept himself from screaming out, riding every wave of his high till it faded a little and then relaxing his jaw, dropping his hand and holding onto Sam frenziedly as they both finished.

Sam gripped Dean's shoulders and rolled them until they collapsed on their sides so he could relax, not being able to lay on Dean because of his belly, but wanting to stay inside his brother as long as he could, savoring the feeling and committing everything to memory.

Dean moved with Sam without question, still holding onto him as tight as he could with whatever energy he had left, and kissed him on the forehead, leaving his lips lingering there as they relaxed into the bed and indolently recovered.

A few minutes passed and their breathing had mostly returned to normal, their bodies still sapped of energy but completely sated and relaxed in each other's arms.

"It would sound really cliché to say 'that was amazing' right now, wouldn't it." Dean stated quietly, still speaking against Sam's sweat-slick forehead, "Besides _amazing_ doesn't really cover it, does it."

Sam shook his head scooting closer into Dean's embrace, his spent and completely over-sensitive cock moving uncomfortably inside Dean's clenched hole. Sam hissed in a quite breath before stilling again in Dean's arms.

"No it doesn't, not even close." He agreed as his hand slowly began stroking up and down Dean's bareback, down to his ass and up to his neck, drawing goose bumps up into his damp skin.

Sam sighed, "Fuck, I'm gonna fall asleep if we don't move soon." He relented regretfully, "I can't imagine what would happen if Meyer or Bobby came in, or how your ass would feel tomorrow if we stayed like this all night." He chuckled lightly, ducking his head under Dean's chin to snuggle closer to him.

Dean nodded his full agreement, "Seriously," He breathed, "Don't wanna think about either of those things." He chuckled running a hand through Sam's hair and down his side to rest against his belly.

"Alright, then, I'm gonna pull out." Sam whispered backing his head away from Dean's chest to watch his brother's face, making sure that was okay. Dean nodded brushing a fingertip down Sam's face. Sam kept his eyes on Dean making sure nothing he did hurt him as he slowly pulled his hips back, keeping his hand firmly against Dean's side, wincing as his dick twitching painfully, slipping free. As soon as he was out Dean released the small breath he'd been holding and loosened his death grip on Sam, relaxing again.

"You good?" Sam asked lightly, still looking up at Dean as he opened his eyes.

"Never better Sammy." He promised, looking back into his eyes for a few stretching seconds "And I truly, honestly mean that." Dean whispered ducking his head down to kiss Sam once more, tenderly on the lips, showing every ounce of his love and devotion through that one humble touch.

"Thank you," Sam whispered into Dean's lips once they broke apart, "for sharing this with me. Trusting me enough." He said, his voice deep and hoarse in the silent room.

"There's no one else Sammy," He breathed back, "No one else in the world I could ever give this to."

Sam closed his eyes, feeling so much love and contentment and satisfaction swelling up in his heart he thought it just might explode right in his chest, and smiled gratefully against Dean's lips.

"I love you."

_Review my little bitches3  
_


	18. Boys will be Boys

_Hey kiddos. Sorry for the wait, I actually did start on this immediately after the last chapter was posted, but slowed down towards the end…which I haven't read all the way through. But I think all of you can expect that by now. _

_;)_

_Love_

It took Dean another fifteen minutes lying wrapped up in Sam before he finally had enough strength and will to get up and clean off. He gently untangled himself from his brother and rolled out of bed, trying not to smear the come on his body over the comforter and failing pretty miserably. He added 'get clean sheets' to his list of things to do.

"Be right back Sammy," He whispered to his half asleep brother who was looking up at him through bleary, red eyes, frowning.

"What are you doing?" He asked before yawning, "It's cold now."

Dean smirked lovingly down at his brother, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, "Just gonna clean off real quick and get some new sheets. You can move to the other bed if you don't wanna wait." He offered quietly, running his hand down the side of Sam's head, his fingers brushing through his drying, tangled locks.

"No," Sam whispered, "I wanna come." He said, pushing himself up on the bed with sapped, shaking arms and rolling over until his feet hit the cold floor, shivering.

"Alright then. Come on, I'm cold too." Dean said helping his brother stand and bringing him into the bathroom, turning on the shower as soon as the door shut.

"Come here." Dean whispered over the sounds of the pelting spray as he wrapped his arms around his brother, waiting for the water to warm. He tugged Sam close to his body to share heat, running his hands up and down Sam's back as he clung to him tightly, rubbing the drying come on their bellies and chests together uncomfortably.

"Gross Dean," Sam whispered, chuckling into his neck, "You got us all…gross."

Dean laughed and swatted Sam's ass before backing up and testing the water, "It's your fault." He said, pulling his hand back out and shaking off the water, "It's warm. We can get you un-_gross_ now princess."

Sam chuckled again pushing Dean into the shower, "Shut up." He ordered following his brother into the water, "Ah wow, that feels good." He praised, moaning obscenely as the heat of the shower flooded over him and dipping his head down to wet his hair before flipping it back up to get it out of his face.

Dean watched with riveted eyes as Sam's hair flung to the side and stuck to his cheek - watched the beads of water clinging to his skin roll down and bounce off the hardened muscles in his shoulders and back - the steam billowing up around him, flushing his face and skin. If there was any come left in his body, he thought he just might get hard again simply looking at him.

Sam finally noticed Dean wasn't joining him under the water and turned the rest of the way around to face him, a question in his eyes. Dean smiled crookedly and shook his head dismissively before stepping forward and into the spray, circling his arms around Sam's middle.

Sam smiled back, whispering a laugh as his arms slipped around his brother too, feeling Dean's hands slowly wander to the mound of his stomach, rubbing light circles into the tight skin.

Sam sighed into Dean's wet spikes before backing up, reaching for the soap on the wrack and spinning it in his hands as he watched Dean wet the rest of his body. Sam took a step forward till his back blocked the spray and looked into Dean's eyes, smiling softly as his hands ran over his taut stomach, cleaning off his rippled muscles before moving lower. He gently washed off his sensitive cock with light, quick hands before continuing down, rubbing his balls gently in his palm.

Dean sucked in a quiet breath at the gentle cleaning, watching Sam's hands with fascination, "You trying for round two Sammy?" He asked, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

Sam laughed, "Hell no." He shook his head, "After that, I don't even have enough energy to _think_ about round two. I'm about ready to pass out right here." He said softly, shaking his head again as his hands moved down to Dean's thighs and hips, gradually working up his torso again, gently washing over the bruises his teeth had left on his chest.

"Well, considering your _young_ stamina I'm surprised, thought I was supposed to be the old one," He snickered, using Sam's teasing words from the carnival against him, "I must pretty good in my _old_ _age_ to have you all worn out." Dean said playfully, smiling smugly at his brother.

Sam opened his mouth to retort but slowly shut it again as he shook his head, "I'm too tired to even think of a come back…" He smiled washing languidly over Dean's arms.

Dean laughed quietly, his head falling back.

"Yeah, yeah laugh it up big brother, karma's a bitch." Sam reminded, "Now rinse off." He demanded softly, a smile still capering at his lips as he switched places with Dean and let him wash the suds off his skin. Sam slowly looked over Dean's back, wincing as he noticed the impressive claw marks he'd left on his skin, seeing a few of them raised and deep enough to still be leaking small trails of blood.

Sam took the bar in his hands again, soaping them up and putting it back before bringing his hands gently down onto his brother's back. He slowly began spreading the bubbling cleanser over his skin, being as tender as he could with the tears in his flesh as he cleaned them out.

Dean sucked in a surprised breath, finally feeling the scratches as Sam's hands brought attention to them, "Oh, you got me good Sammy." He said, huffing a laugh as he hunched his back and rolled his head, stretching out the muscles, "Guess Karma _is_ a bitch." He muttered to himself.

Sam huffed, "I guess it is," he mumbled back as his hands continued down with the soap, carefully moving over his muscles before reaching his lower back, brushing over the dimples there and the curve of his ass, slipping a finger softly into the crease.

Dean tensed almost imperceptibly under his hands, "Careful Sammy." He cautioned softly.

"Alright. I just wanna make sure you're okay." He whispered, letting his head fall forward to kiss him on the shoulder before kneeling down, pushing a hand into the middle of Dean's back, "Lean forward."

"I'm perfectly fine Sammy, chill-"

"Dean please, just humor me." Sam pleaded, his protective side taking over his guilt as he thought over the idea of Dean being hurt or in lasting pain because of him.

So Dean sighed, buckling at the look in his brother's eyes as he complied, resting his forearms against the shower wall and letting his head hang between them, spreading his legs a little to compensate his brother.

Sam lathered his hands to wash the perfectly rounded globes of Dean's ass before carefully spreading him, noting the quiet hiss he got in response, and looked over the swollen, abused hole, still slightly leaking his come. Sam flinched indiscernibly, looking at the red tissue and as softly as he could, circled his soapy fingers over him, washing away the last remnants of his seed.

Dean grunted at the touch before choking out a strange laugh, "Damn Sammy you really got me good." He shook his head, "Jesus your hung like a fucking horse."

Sam blew out a frustrated breath, "I knew I would hurt you." He said seriously, not a trace of humor in his tone as he pushed Dean's hips farther into the spray, washing away the suds to clear his view once more. He tried to get a second glance and make sure he hadn't torn him, but Dean pulled out of his grasp, turning around too abruptly for him to get a chance.

"Come on Sammy don't be like that. I'm _fine_." He assured, looking sternly into Sam's eyes before softening his gaze, seeing the hurt in his brother's eyes and dipping his head forward to kiss along his jaw, "It was incredible, Sammy. And I wouldn't have changed anything." He said pulling Sam close, running his nails over his scalp as his lips brushed over his ear, "You felt fucking incredible, how can you question that." He asked lowly, brushing over Sam's now clean belly, "Fuck just thinking about it…I could probably get hard again."

Sam sighed shakily, his arms tightening around Dean's neck, "God…me too." He admitted, his heart picking up its pace a little as his dick giving a valiant twitch, remembering the way it felt being buried inside all that unfathomable heat, the astonishing grip of his tight hole. Sam groaned and pushed himself off his brother.

"Shit, we can't start this up again," Sam stated, shaking his head to emphasize his words as he tried to calm his racing heart, "You're beat to hell and I wouldn't be able to _not_ fuck you after that." He explained, whispering gruffly and gently shaking his head again– his mind intent on fighting as it continued to replay their night over again for him, "We should at least try and get a few hours of sleep while its actually still dark out anyway." Sam reasoned, trying to keep his head on straight even as Dean's tantalizingly beautiful, naked body still beckoned to him just a few inches away.

Dean sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, "Yeah, guess you're right. Plus I don't think I could be that quiet again without taking my finger off or something," He chuckled, bringing his hand up to inspect where he'd bitten down earlier as he came.

Sam gasped soundlessly in shock, moving forward to inspect his discolored finger closer. "Shit Dean, when'd you do this?"

"When do you think, Sam." He deadpanned.

Sam ignored him and turned his hand over, looking at the black and blue bruise on his forefinger surrounding a few imprints of Dean's teeth where they'd torn through the skin. "Jesus dude, that's crazy." Sam breathed, running his finger over the cuts and bringing back a faint spot of blood, "Damn…you really shouldn't need a med kit after sex." He joked half-heartedly.

"Nah, you definitely should. That's when you know it was good." Dean countered with a cocky smile, removing his hand from his brother's grasp and grabbing the shampoo, "C'mere." He whispered, still grinning like a moron.

Sam laughed swatting at Dean's hand before letting him wrestle him over and shampoo his long matted locks. The massaging fingers against his scalp slowly brought back the exhaustion Sam had been fighting off earlier, relaxing him into his stupor again before Dean rinsed him off.

They finished quickly after that, feeling their prior fatigue slowly setting in, weighing their limbs down and making their lids heavy. Sam was pulling up his boxers, still damp but too tired to bother properly drying off, when he caught a glimpse of Dean's back again.

"Oh hang on, let me put some stuff on those before we pass out. And your hand too." Sam mumbled reaching under their sink for the white box and setting it on the counter.

"Really man?" Dean whined, "Let's just go. I'm dead on my feet."

"Dean, look at your back." Sam said, gesturing to the mirror, "They may not feel bad but they're pretty deep, deep enough to still be bleeding. And plus we gotta make the bed first anyway or the room's gonna smell like sex for Meyer and Bobby tomorrow. So wake your ass up a little and help me out." He said as he sat Dean onto the toilet and got out antibiotic cream and a few Band-Aids.

Dean groaned in complaint but did as he was told and sat still while Sam dressed his scratches and wrapped up his swollen finger. It didn't take more than five minutes, but Dean was already half-dreaming by the time they were done. Sam huffed a tired laugh as Dean startled on the toilet seat, yanking his eyes open as Sam stood and packed up the kit.

"Come on brother," Sam said wrapping one of Dean's arms over his shoulder and helping him up, moving them both across the room. "Sleep," He said dropping him down onto the clean bed before pulling the covers up over his lax form.

Dean squinted up at Sam, "The bed," He whispered trying to get up again.

"Go to sleep Dean. I got it. I'll be there in a few minutes, promise." He consoled pushing Dean back into the mattress and kissing the corner of his mouth before running a hand down his cheek, resting it over his heart. Dean was asleep by the time he backed away enough to see him.

Sam smiled adoringly down at his sleeping brother, studying the perfectly slack set of his features, the tiniest trace of a smile shaping his lips, the steady, deep breaths filing in and out of him, moving his sculpted chest mesmerizingly.

"G'night Dean." He whispered through a tired, loving smile before moving up to gather clean sheets from the closet and undressing the bed. He went as fast as his tired limbs would let him and soon had the bed dressed in clean sheets, stuffing the old ones in the hamper and finally, finally falling into bed with his brother.

He snuggled up to his back, breathing against the little hairs at the base of his neck, tickling his nose. Dean rolled over into the contact, snuffling and humming as he jostled around, and cradled Sam to his chest, his hand coming to rest over their children, his other propped under Sam's head. His brother smiled widely pulling himself into Dean's embrace and snuggling in before they both fell deeply asleep, marking the end to a day neither would ever forget.

Sam slowly woke the next morning shuffling on his pillow, breathing out a deep sigh as his eyes fluttered open. His foggy mind slowly came to process that his pillow felt taut, moving his head in a steady rhythm as little hairs tickled his lips. He blinked his eyes harder to clear them, squinting in the bright light of the sun flooding their room, and saw a familiar trail of blonde hair sprawling down under the waist band of black pajama pants.

He smiled contentedly as he realized where he was and turned his head down to press a soft kiss to Dean's stomach, his arm slung over his brother's waist, drawing patterns lightly over his ribs. Sam closed his eyes again and stretched, knowing his brother was awake under him as he shuffled around onto his other side, turning his head over to peer up at Dean. His brother's lids were heavy as he stared down at him, his mouth tilted up into a small smirk and his hair tousled and un-jelled against his forehead.

"Morning." He husked running a hand down Sam's hair, "Comfy?" He asked, his tone smug and playful as he flexed his stomach a few times, bouncing Sam's head.

Sam laughed and smacked him lightly, "I _was_."

"Yeah, I can imagine pillows would be overrated when you've got me around." Dean said nonchalantly, shrugging down at Sam.

"Yeah…I should probably get up now." Sam said, pushing himself onto the other side of the bed, "I don't think your ego could take much more, if it gets much bigger I'm afraid you'll explode." He explained dramatically, widening his eyes at Dean as he threw off the covers.

Dean chuckled and rolled over, throwing himself over his brother, "No way your going anywhere just yet Sammy. Too warm."

Sam huffed a laugh, shoving at his brother just as a knock sounded at the door. Dean pushed himself up and turned around to lean against the back of the headboard, Sam mimicking him.

"Come in." Dean called, apparently unfazed by the idea of Bobby or Meyer seeing them in bed together, even half naked. Sam on the other hand shot him a glare and tried to pull the covers over himself as the door creaked open and Meyer stepped in.

"Morning boys," Meyer greeted easily, settling Sam's nerves, "Didn't mean to disturb anything, it's twelve so I thought you might be up, but, if not I'll make it quick." He began, lifting his hands in the air apologetically, "Just wanted to see if, since we never got a chance to do our five month check up when it was originally planned, you maybe wanted to do it today. I know you don't work Dean so I thought it would be a good opportunity." Meyer suggested, looking back and forth between the two boys.

"Um, sure yeah." Sam answered, his expression thoughtful and eager as he looked to Dean to make sure it was all right. He nodded his consent, smiling over at his brother.

"Great," Meyer enthused, "Well there's left over breakfast downstairs when you boys are hungry. I have to take care of something, just be gone a few hours, but when I get back we'll get started."

Sam nodded as Dean spoke.

"Where you going?" He asked, obviously unable to quell his curiosity since the doctor really hadn't been out anywhere for something personal since he'd arrived.

"Oh, um…a hunter's passing through town today. Injured himself with a shape shifter a few days ago, just a town over. I'm going to meet him to check on his injuries. He said he's alright, but he called Bobby to see if he could stay here for a few days, so I thought the least I could do was check on him. We're putting him up in a nearby motel."

"Well, who is it? Does he really need to stay here?" Sam asked worriedly, hating that his presence at the house was hindering someone, especially a hunter.

"I'm sure he's fine Sam, if he could drive himself here, he's okay." Meyer eased, "And his name's Caleb, I've never met him before but-"

"Wait, Caleb?" Dean interrupted, "As in dad's friend Caleb?"

Meyer looked dumbfounded, "Oh, I don't know. How many hunters are there named Caleb?" He asked rhetorically, "It might be him." He shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable and on the spot, wondering now if should've said anything about it at all.

"You can bring him here." Sam said suddenly, "I'll just stay up here, it's fine. If he needs help, and it could be dad's friend, he should be able to come here. Don't refuse him 'cause of me. I can't hog the only hunter's doctor out there." He said lightly, shrugging, "I really don't mind."

"No, it'll be too hard to hide from him, I'm not locking you up here so that he can be more comfortable." Dean interjected, shaking his head, "Meyer will go see him, make sure he's alright, and that'll be that."

Sam shrugged again, "Okay, I was just trying to help."

Meyer smiled fondly down at his young patient, "I'll go see if he's okay and report back, just sit tight and I'll be home in a couple hours."

"Alright sounds good doc."

Meyer nodded and left, closing the door behind him, "You're way too self sacrificing bro," Dean chuckled shaking his head, "Let's go see if we've got anything good in the kitchen."

"I just didn't wanna be taking advantage of Meyer and Bobby. If someone else needs them, of course I'm gonna feel bad that they can't help 'cause of me. Specially if it was one of dad's friends." Sam explained quietly as he climbed out of bed and dressed for the day.

Dean sobered at Sam's words and nodded, "But I'm sure Caleb's just fine, Sammy, and they _are_ helping. So let it go and let's eat."

Sam sighed and followed Dean down the stairs, trying to shake off his guilt and let himself enjoy the sunny afternoon. They ate in silence quickly and Dean took in their dishes, cleaning up after them before joining Sam back at the table.

"So, what do you feel like doing today brother?" He asked reclining back in his chair, wincing subtly with the movement but noting with gratitude that Sam didn't catch him.

"I don't know, it's your day off. What do you wanna do?"

Dean hesitated a moment, his hands hovering over the table before he placed them down and pushed himself out of his seat again, walking over to a little backpack leaning against the wall. He grabbed it and walked back over, shooting Sam a slightly encouraging look before taking his seat, setting the backpack on the table.

"Well, I was hoping I could talk to you about something." Dean started as he unzipped the pack.

"Dean, you're freaking me out."

"Sam relax, it's not a big deal." He consoled, pulling out their laptop, "I just wanted to talk to you, about…school." Dean said a little apprehensively, fully aware he was treading in rocky waters but hoping nothing he brought up would hit a wrong nerve.

Sam's expression went from skeptically curious to crestfallen the second the word _school_ was uttered. "Oh." He mumbled, "Yeah, right."

"Sammy I know you've always been big on education and grades and classes and shit, and I know it's not exactly possible now for you to keep going to high school, but I thought, you know, while we still have time before the kids are here, that maybe you'd consider getting your GED instead." Dean suggested softly, taking Sam's hand and rubbing small circles into the back of it with his thumb, "I know it's not ideal and it's not a diploma, but I thought maybe you'd want to consider it." He shrugged, squeezing Sam's hand as he looked apprehensively into his eyes, hating the barely-masked pain he saw there.

"Yeah Dean, you're right. It's a good idea." He nodded, trying to smile, "I'll start researching how to do it today."

"I've already got all the sites and numbers you'll need, I've been looking into it the past couple days at work. Just in case." Dean shrugged again, "The sites are all favorited, you can take a look at them whenever you feel like it – _if_ you ever feel like it. But if you don't wanna do this Sam, if you wanna wait and try to go back and graduate later, I'll do whatever I can to make it work, alright? Don't feel like this is your only option, I just thought it should be considered…. You know, now that things are settling down a little, I thought it'd be a good time to start talking about stuff like this." Dean said, looking meaningfully into Sam's eyes.

"I guess it is about time we start discussing this stuff – school and saving money and preparing for the kids and, I don't know, everything else. Trying to figure out what exactly were gonna _do_…about…well, _everything_." Sam chuckled a little haplessly, dropping and shaking his head.

"Hey, we're okay." Dean ensured rubbing a hand down Sam's arm, "Just because we start talking about the future doesn't automatically mean we start freaking out or feeling overwhelmed again. It's gonna be a lot of work, whatever we decide to do, but that doesn't mean it's not gonna be worth it." He said moving his hand to rest over Sam's rounded stomach.

Sam nodded, giving a small but genuine smile this time, and moved his hand over Dean's, "Yeah you're right." He paused for a minute, his expression betraying his whirling thoughts. 

"And there's uh, something I've kind of been wanting to talk to you about too." Sam breached slowly, sliding his hand off Dean's, "I think its time we do something about that doctor." He said bluntly, flickering his eyes up to his brother's, making sure whom he spoke of was clear. "I know it's random, finally bringing him up now, but lately I…can't keep from thinking about what he's doing out there. If he's still doing _this," _He gestured to his belly, "to people who don't want it - if it's working now or if he's still killing people…if he's…looking for you and me. I don't know Dean, I don't know what to think, I just can't get him out of my head." He said, rubbing his temples helplessly.

"It really didn't bother me a lot in the beginning, I was more focused on other things, but like you said…now that things are kind of calming down, I can't help it. I want to know that people are safe from him, that we're safe from him." Sam admitted, looking over fearfully and determinedly at Dean.

He let out a heavy sigh and straightened up in his seat, "Honestly, he's been weighing on my mind too." Dean confessed, "I didn't wanna bring it up cause I didn't wanna worry you, but I do think about him. What he's doing and shit, but Sammy… I'm not scared of him. And you shouldn't be either, I don't want you worrying about him, I'll keep us all safe, you know that. But I do understand you wanting to keep other people safe from him, 'cause I feel the same way. When I think about what he did to us and to all those other innocent people…it makes me so fuckin' sick I could just take off and drive till I was at his front door to beat his ass and throw him in jail myself. But since I know I can't do that…I 've tried not to think about it."

Sam nodded, "That's what I've been doing too, just pushing him out of my head and trying to pretend he doesn't exist – that he isn't a threat anymore – but now I'm, having a harder time ignoring him. Cause we _should_ do something, Dean. Other people could be out there getting killed because we've been brushing the issue aside." Sam reminded, anguish in his eyes.

"I know Sammy, but that's _why_ I've been doing it…'cause what exactly can we do?"

Sam opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find some plan to fix this "Maybe we could call a couple hunters and have them take care of him."

"Okay first off, take care of him as in…kill him?"

"I don't know, no. No, he's human, he should be…put in prison, the law should take care of him."

"Okay. Then second…how exactly are these hunters supposed to get him into the laws hands and how are we going to get them to even try without explaining what happened to us?"

"Fuck, I don't know Dean, I just…" Sam sighed dismally, out of options, "I just wanted to help." His head dropped, defeated, "Forget it."

"Look, I'm sorry Sammy, I want to take care of him just as much as you do – every instinct in me has been screaming to go after those guys since this whole thing started. But _you're_ my number one priority, and I'm not leaving you here alone to go after him myself or spending time and effort that could be focused on us to gather a group and figure out some plan to get him. I'd have just called the cops a long time ago if I thought we could actually do that, get him in jail, and not get involved or discovered ourselves, but I know that we can't. We don't have any control over this without putting ourselves and our situation in the public's eye. And having you taken away to be studied or some shit…? It's just not an option."

"I know. I know, sorry I brought it up. I just wanted to help, but…we gotta focus on our kids before everything else. I know that."

Dean agreed however reluctantly and nodded, "So, we worry about him later, maybe ask Bobby and Meyer for some advice. And, we…keep doing what we've been doing. Saving money and lying low and keeping all the evil shit off our backs. We've been doing a pretty good job so far, I don't wanna jeopardize anything by chasing after homicidal psychos who want to study and showcase us."

Sam shuddered at the thought and settled with their decision, "You're right." Silence fell at the table again as they processed their conversation.

"Well, I guess now that that's settled…" Sam began again, a little hesitant to change the subject but needing to break the quiet anyway, "And we're on the topic of the future and whatever…I'm almost a full five months." He pointed out anxiously, "We should start, I don't know, maybe thinking about names and stuff." He said, though it sounded like more of a question than a suggestion.

Dean's face broke into an unexpected smile, his brow crumpling for a second, as if he were studying something, "You're adorable when you're nervous Sammy." He teased brushing his hand over Sam's chin. He swatted his hand away, glaring. "Okay, okay sorry. You're right, I think it's a good idea, lets start thinking of names." He conceded, a small smile still lingering at his lips.

Sam couldn't help grinning back, "Alright." He settled, "So…you got anything?"

Dean chuckled, "Well, in the five seconds I've considered it…no, unfortunately. I've got nothin'."

"Smart ass."

Dean nodded, humming thoughtfully, "It's got a nice ring to it, but I think it might proceed a reputation for the kid, don't you?"

Sam laughed, shaking his head, "Glad to see you're taking this seriously."

"Of course Sammy," Dean bowed his head.

"Well, just think on it and tell me when you've got something. Maybe we could get a book, go through it together and pick out stuff we like." Sam shrugged.

"Sure Sammy, sounds-" Dean started to agree before he was cut off by the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming closed.

"Meyer?" Sam called, slowly pushing himself out of his chair and following Dean into the front room. Meyer was taking off his sweater and stepping out of shoes when Dean and Sam emerged to greet him. He didn't look overly disheveled or stressed, so Sam breathed a little easier, getting the impression that things had gone alright with Caleb.

"So, how was he?" Dean asked as Meyer stepped between the boys and headed out through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Caleb was…okay." Meyer gave, tipping his head to the side in a half nod as he pulled a cup from the cabinets.

"Okay?" Sam questioned, his heart plummeting at the unease in Meyer's voice.

"Yeah, he was…well, he'll live." He conceded as he filled his cup with water, "He had a few lacerations that needed stitching, a bullet still lodged in his right shoulder…left leg was fractured in three places. I was surprised he made it here," Meyer admitted calmly, "But he did, he made the twenty minute drive alone, navigated his way and everything…. He's tough, obviously. So I have complete faith that he'll heal up just fine."

"Did you leave him there alone?" Sam asked accusatorily.

"No, no. Bobby's there with him now." Meyer ensured just as calmly, taking a drink from his water.

Sam blew out a sigh, his cheeks puffing out as his shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this. Why doesn't he just go to a hospital?"

"Bullet wounds, he's adamant on not going. Didn't wanna deal with the questions and insurance. I couldn't change his mind." Meyer shook his head, shrugging helplessly. "I'm gonna go back over there tomorrow morning, I asked Bobby to stay tonight incase anything goes wrong, he'll be able to let me know."

Sam scoffed, "This is ridiculous, he should be _here_." He muttered quietly, turning his head away in self-deprecation.

"Stop it Sammy," Dean intervened before Meyer had the chance, "We've been over this. It's okay, Caleb's gonna be okay, don't stress over it."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's words, keeping his head turned as he did so and shuffling his stance. Dean shook his head and gave up, taking a step away from his brother.

"Alright enough of that," Meyer quelled, "Caleb is fine Sam, we're taking good care of him, I promise." He paused taking a breath, "Now onto a lighter subject, you guys ready to see the kids?" He asked, putting some enthusiasm into his voice.

Sam didn't move to answer, but it was clear in the way his eyes softened and his lips twitched up that the news was welcomed. And looking at the way Dean's expression mirrored Sam's, Meyer didn't need any spoken words to know their answer.

"Alright then," The appeased doctor spoke, making the boys turn their heads toward him, "Go on upstairs guys, Sam you know the drill. I'll be there in just a second."

Meyer left down the hall, disappearing into his room before Sam and Dean faced each other again. Sam gave his brother a sidelong look before smirking lightly and grabbing his hand, "Okay, lets go."

Dean smiled back and traipsed after him, climbing up the stairs, "I'm ready."

They entered their room, leaving open the door behind them, "You know, I was reading up on stuff about…pregnancies and whatever, a few days ago, and I saw that its around the five month check up that you can usually tell the sex." Sam hinted quietly, chancing a glance up at Dean a few seconds later to try and measure his thoughts on the idea.

Dean was looking at him in anticipation, "Really." He drawled pretending to consider the thought, "So…what's that mean? You wanna know?" He asked, running his finger tips over the back of Sam's hand as they both took a seat on a bed.

"I…don't know. Do you?" Sam asked around a small smile, grabbing ahold of Dean's hand.

"Well," Dean hesitated, "Yeah." He breathed as his whole expression lit up, "I can't wait to know who these little guys are gonna be. I mean, this is just one step, but…still, it's a big one. I can't wait to know." He revealed, whispering as his hand trailed across the bulge of Sam's stomach.

Sam beamed in response, catching Dean's hand and trapping it against his skin, "Thank God," He responded on a sigh, "I was hoping you would but I didn't wanna pressure you if you didn't want to. Once we know though, we can start getting stuff ready for them like clothes and cribs and everything. It'll take a lot of stress off us buying for them."

Dean smirked, his eyes distancing as he thought on it, "Yeah, it's gonna be crazy." His gaze refocused on Sam, "But I'm excited."

Sam nodded, his smile softening just as the door to their room glided open and Meyer walked in, "Alright guys," He greeted as he closed the door behind him, prepared with a pair of gloves in hand, "You ready?"

Dean breathed an awed laugh, looking from the doctor to Sam, "Never been more ready doc."

Meyer smiled back, obviously gladdened by the news, "Good. Now let's just hope the kids cooperate, huh."

"Yeah really," Sam said, rubbing over his belly before taking a breath, "But doc, 'for we start, I've just been wondering…is it normal that I haven't really felt either of them move yet?" He said, unknowingly spiking Dean's anxiety with the question as worry leaked into his voice, "I mean, I've felt like, butterflies and little flutters that I _know_ are them, but neither of them have really _kicked_ yet, is that normal?" He asked, his hands still unconsciously rolling over his stomach.

"Completely normal Sam." Meyer assured, "With first-time pregnancies it usually takes a little longer to feel movement in general, but with you, the uterus is set a little lower, so they've got a little less room to move not to mention, there's two of them. It'll take a little longer before their big enough for you to feel, but I assure you, it'll be soon." Meyer smiled, squirting gel onto Sam's exposed stomach, "And once they start I promise you'll wish they'd quit." He laughed jokingly, picking up his wand and pressing it to Sam's skin.

Sam chuckled with him, shaking his head, "Doubt it," He whispered, peering down at his inflated belly, watching the rounded stick move over his stomach, searching for heartbeats.

Dean smiled at Sam before his eyes flickered over to the screen displaying different blobs of gray and white and black as the wand shifted around, still trying to find a heartbeat. His hand unconsciously slid up Sam's arm to his chest, resting over a collarbone and drawing into his skin, providing both of them comfort as they watched Meyer work.

Finally, sound broke the silence.

_Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh._

And Dean's chest deflated as a rushed sigh of relief washed through him. He loved that sound, treasured it, every time he heard it made his own heart speed with elation. He glanced over at Sam, hearing his own sigh fall through a blinding smile.

"Best sound." Sam whispered before reaching up his hand to cover Dean's, holding him tight. Dean smiled awe-fully at the proof of their aligned thoughts.

"Yep, there's monster number one," Meyer said examining the picture on screen with a small smile, "So you guys wanna know the sex?" He asked, confirming what he'd overheard earlier.

Sam nodded eagerly, "But not until you know both." He interrupted abruptly, looking to Dean, silently asking for permission.

Dean shrugged and smiled, "Sure Sammy, whatever you want."

Meyer looked between the boys with the same grin plastered on his face and nodded, going back to his screen and moving around his wand once more. Soon, the whooshing sound of two heartbeats was filling the room, pattering over each other, fast and alive.

Dean silently amended his thoughts, now thinking that _this_ was the best sound ever. The proof of life of both their children, now beating loud in the room. "Incredible." He breathed, still watching the blurs on screen.

"Okay," Meyer said, drawing out the word as his eyes still scanned over the image, "And…okay." He nodded, smiling, and turned back to the boys, "Ready?" He asked, brow raised high in excitement.

"Yes, yes just tell us." Dean said waving his hand in impatience.

"Alri-ight." Meyer sang, "Their gonna be same sex twins." He announced, taking his time to fully reveal the full answer.

But Sam stopped him before he could, "Wait, so both girls or both boys?" He asked eagerly.

"Yes." Meyer confirmed.

"Okay, okay, and?" Dean encouraged, waving his hand again.

"But they're fraternal, so they probably won't look too much alike…"

"Meyer." Dean snapped, giving him a pointed look, reminding him he could beat the answer out if need be.

Meyer held up his hands in surrender before breaking out into another smile.

"Boys."

Dean let out a huge sigh and smiled up at the ceiling, "Thank God." He said in palpable reprieve.

Sam was interrupted in his processing of the news as he registered Dean praising the lord next to him in a too obvious display of relief.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, "And if they'd been girls?"

"Oh come on Sam, not like you weren't thinking the same thing." Dean defended, "We can handle boys, girls…another story. I was thinking of them when I was hoping for boys." He said, his eyes widening as he gestured to Sam's belly.

Meyer chuckled next to them shaking his head as he wiped down Sam's stomach.

Sam couldn't keep his giddy excitement from making him join the doctor, both laughing at Dean's antics as everyone rejoiced the news.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while. Take it all in." Meyer said with his ever-present smile as he packed up his equipment, "Congratulations boys." He said, patting Sam's shoulder before he turned to leave.

"Thank you." Dean said with sincerity, the million meanings behind his gratitude all present in his words. Meyer simply nodded once more and shut the door behind him.

"Holy shit." Sam whispered a few silent moments later, "Boys."

Dean breathed a laugh, straightening his body out on the bed and leaning back against the headboard, "Yeah," He sighed, "Damn."

Another cloud of silence settled over them as they continued to absorb the new information, bask and praise and revel. Neither brother could remember feeling so _satisfied_ with life before.

Sam turned to Dean, not even bothering to hide the tears clinging to his eyelashes, and smiled, his lids falling closed as he dropped his head to Dean's shoulder and sighed a shaky, watery laugh. Dean blinked his own tears from his eyes as his arms enwrapped Sam, pulling him to his chest and raking his hand through his hair.

Dean pressed his lips to the floppy locks of Sam's hair before tilting his brother's chin up and moving down to cover his mouth with his own softly. The barely-present touch was gentle and brief, but it still flooded Sam with a rush of adrenaline as he moved his hand up to cup Dean's cheek, keeping him close.

"You're right." He whispered against his lips, "This really is all going to be worth it."


	19. Love, Drugs, and Ladders

I'm evil and slow. My bad. Pt 1 of Ch 19. Love you all like something that loves something else a lot.

Xx

"So don't worry 'bout tomorrow, take it today, forget about the tip, we'll get _Hell_ to pay, have a drink on me! Yeah, have a drink on me! Ohhhh, have a drink on me."

"Oh dear God," Sam mumbled into his pillow as he slowly woke, scrunching his eyes shut tighter as he pushed his face down into the bed, "Make it stop." He pleaded before glancing up and over at the clock. Barely six-thirty.

"Im Dizzy, drunk and fightin, on tequila white lightnin'. My glass is getting shorter, on whiskey, ice and water!"

"Come on Dean," Sam whined, quickly calculating how many hours of sleep he'd actually gotten before he was so abruptly awaken, groaning when he realized it was a little over four. They'd stayed up last night, each keeping the other awake in favor of celebrating the news of their twin boys. Sam had been looking forward to a long, languid morning of sleep to compensate for it today. But was quickly abandoning any hope for that.

"Too early for ACDC man." He shook his head as he rolled over onto his back, continuing to listen to Dean scream one of his favorites, his voice cracking as it reached for a particularly high note and missed drastically.

Sam chuckled lowly, throwing a hand over his face as he pushed himself up and swung his legs out of bed, "Oh man." He whispered to himself as he stood and approached the bathroom door, a smirk dancing on his lips as he slowly and silently pushed it open and entered. Dean was too wrapped up in his blaringly loud solo to notice Sam had even come in.

"We'll get _Hell_ to pay…"

-"_Have a drink on me_!" Sam yelled theatrically, cutting Dean off from his next line as he yanked the shower curtain back.

"Holy _Je_-sus man!" Dean yelped, his voice squeaking as it cracked again and he twitchily skirted backward, curling against the wall, "Fuckin' _shit_ Sam!" He yelled, catching his breath for a minute before hesitantly pushing himself off the wall. His fear faded quickly, gradually being replaced by outrage as he watched Sam succumb to his hysterical fits of laughter.

"Goddamn Dean," Sam laughed, shaking his head as he used the wall for support, doubling over and clutching his rounded stomach. "Oh God dude, that was freakin' hilarious."

"I am so gonna kick your fuckin' ass dude." Dean gritted out between his clenched teeth as he advanced on his brother, bringing an arm around his neck as he dragged him into the shower.

Sam was still laughing by the time he was sopping wet, his boxers and white-T sticking to him like a second skin as Dean wrestled him into a nuggie, his knuckles rubbing his hair until it was sticking up in every direction.

Sam finally broke out of his brother's grasp and shoved himself back, standing up again. "Ass," he chuckled shaking his hair back into place.

"Ass?" Dean cried incredulously, "You're lucky I didn't have some kinda weapon handy, I woulda taken your freakin' head off dude. You scared the living hell out of me."

"_You_ woke me up with your karaoke performance at _six_-_thirty_ in the morning," Sam defended, "That was simple, well-deserved payback. Especially after keeping me up all night."

"Well, if _I_ remember correctly, you definitely weren't complaining last night, but if I was mistaken…I'll be sure to keep my mouth to myself next time." Dean said threateningly, his brow cocked in feigned indifference.

Sam tilted his head, shooting him mock annoyance, "You know that's not the part I'm complaining about," He muttered, shaking his head, "_You_, waking me up after our all-night marathon of your mouth and…_everything else_…. That, I'm complaining about." Sam laughed lightly, raising his brow to emphasize his point.

"Well then I'm sorry to have disturbed your beauty sleep, princess," Dean apologized, hardly sincere as he gripped the bottom of Sam's wet t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "How 'bout I make it up to you."

Sam's interest peaked at the proposition, Dean's fingers slip-sliding along the seam of his boxers after they dropped his shirt to the shower floor. "Oh really, and how exactly do you plan on doing that?" He asked, his voice quiet and scratchy from sleep and now arousal, "That was a pretty incredible dream you interrupted." He said, finally taking a moment to look over his brother's naked, glistening body, inches away from him.

"Really." Dean questioned as his hands took their time pushing the last bit of material separating their bodies off of Sam's hips. "And just what was so incredible about this dream…that you couldn't be disturbed? Even to come take a shower with me." He asked, whispering breathily against Sam's lips as the boxers finally gave, smacking down to the floor.

"Well…when you put it like that," Sam began, his head tipping back to rest against the shower wall as Dean's lips nipped at his ear, "nothing."

"That's what I thought." Dean answered smugly as his mouth continued it's decent down the column of Sam's neck. "Let's move this to the bed." He mumbled into Sam's sternum, dipping his tongue out to taste the sleep on his skin.

Sam nodded numbly before lurching forward and shutting off the water, ripping the shower curtain aside and pulling them both out in a tangle of limbs. "Oh fuck," Sam moaned as they tumbled across their room and down onto a bed, still sopping wet. "You have no idea what you do to me." He muttered, squeezing his eyes closed as Dean's thigh pressed into his naked groin.

"I think I've got a clue." He whispered crashing into his mouth and plunging forward with his tongue, tasting everything he could reach as his hand found Sam's cock pressed snug against his and encased them both in his grip.

The breath punched out of Sam in an audible gasp as his body curled forward into Dean's, his brother's fist squeezing them together mercilessly. "Oh God." Dean groaned, his head falling down to Sam's pectoral, the wet spikes of his hairs leaving trickling beads of water dripping down his torso and onto the bed. "Mmngh," He grunted unintelligibly, throat constricting with his chest as his fist began pumping.

Sam's hands flew up to enwrap Dean, holding him close and breathing out a soft whimper as his back arced up beneath his brother. "Ah, yes, yes, _Dean_." He keened as the speed of Dean's fist increased around them. Sam drew his hand down Dean's back jerkily, stilling on his ass to squeeze the muscle harshly and _knowing_ that there would be imprints of his fingers later, relishing in his mark.

Dean stuttered out a guttural moan, his ass flexing under Sam's rough hand as he ground their cocks together harder, thrusting up into his grasp. Sam's hand gradually unclenched, moving around to squeeze between their slippery bodies and finding their joined cocks enclosed in Dean's hand. He slowly approached his brother's grasp, stilling him with surprise as Dean opened his eyes and met Sam's narrowed, desperate gaze.

"Sammy." Dean said breathlessly, his body still instinctively rolling gently into his fist and rutting against Sam's. But Sam didn't answer, simply wrapped his own hand around Dean's - his fingers slipping in between each of his brother's - and slowly began to stroke them again, settling a much slower pace, intent on making it last.

"Mm-fu…" Dean huffed not getting a chance to finish his curse as his breath left him in a great whoosh. "You fuckin' tease." He said once he filled his lungs again.

"Damn right." Sam returned shakily, continuing to torture them with his languid pace, pausing on an upstroke to dip his fingers into their slits, gathering and mixing their precome to smear it over the sensitive ridges of their heads. "God damnet Sammy," Dean ground out, unable to help driving his hips into Sam's hand.

Sam threw his head back, crying out at the sudden jolt of friction that sent shocks of pleasure through his lower belly and down his twitching legs. He flexed his ass to push his hips up into Dean's, adding to the needed friction. "Shit Dean, 's close. 'M close." He mumbled, writhing gracefully under the torturously sweet sensations coursing through his veins and heating his skin.

"Yeah Sammy. Come baby. Wanna feel you all over us. Coating our hands, marking us." He whispered next to Sam's ear, his lips tickling over his skin, breath heavy and unsteady.

"Oh God, unh." Sam grunted through his clenched teeth, their fists now jacking them both furiously, bodies colliding into each other, both frantic for release.

Sam squeaked ever so faintly before all his breath came crashing out of him at once. He sucked in another quick inhale as his stomach contracted and he reached his climax, his head thrashing from side to side as his back bowed off the bed and his hands fisting the pillow under his head as he clung to the irrational but desperate hope of survival through his onslaught of pleasure. Every move he made a frantic attempt to endure this larger-than-life, on-the-verge-of-combustion sensation that coursed through his veins every time he reached climax under Dean's hands.

He gave his best effort toward keeping quiet but it was near impossible. Trying to quell every whimper and cry of pleasure proved too grueling as he waded through every cresting wave of his release.

"That's it babe." Dean said, watching Sam break apart beneath him, so utterly vulnerable and lost in his pleasure, completely reliant on him for everything in that moment, "Fuck you're so…" Dean grunted lowly, his words fading as his head dropped down roughly onto Sam's shoulder, his own release quickly building up in his groin, alighting his stomach on fire.

He took a deep breath to stave himself off and lifted again to look into Sam's eyes: half lidded and warm, filled with so much unadulterated love and passion as his body continued twitching threw his aftershocks he almost couldn't find his voice to finish.

"So beautiful like this." He finally breathed, barely managing to get the words out before losing it himself, throwing his head back in a silent roar as he shot his own release between them.

He vaguely registered Sam's free hand stroking down his face, whispering quite, gasped praises as he panted through his orgasm, each breath leaving him in a coarse growl.

"Ungh," Dean groaned loudly one last time as the last of his seed left him, glazing their still entwined hands as his body slowly lost its adrenaline and unwound, falling limp to the bed beside his brother. Sam's eyes were closed as he tenderly unclenched his hand from around them, letting Dean do the same.

"God…I have to go to work now?" Dean mumbled in a whisper, scooting closer to Sam who simply grumbled quietly in response and hugged him tighter, keeping him close to his chest. Dean hummed, sated and happy and tired again, ready to spend the rest of the day in bed with Sam.

They lay there like that until both began drifting to sleep, their bodies lax and heavy, molded into the bed and still drying from their shower, but warm from their shared body heat and the high of their climaxes. A few minutes later a screeching ring sounded to their left, startling both awake, confused and irritated until Dean registered what it was. The he was just irritated.

He groaned and hefted himself up, leaning over Sam to shut off their alarm. Sam looked up at him confused.

"Set a second one." Dean explained quietly, "Just in case this happened. Go back to sleep Sammy. I'll get a rag and clean you up." Sam's eyes began clouding once again, rolling up under his lids as they slowly shut with Dean's permission, pulling back under the throes of exhaustion. Dean smirked down at his brother, kissed him on the cheek and left to the bathroom to quickly wet a washcloth.

He first cleaned himself off and then washed the rag again, ringing it out before bringing it to his brother. Dean took Sam's hand and cleaned it off first, trying not to wake him in his ministrations. He moved to his stomach then, smiling as he stroked the rag over his stretched belly, working slowly so as to not irritate his brother's already over-sensitive, over-stretched skin.

Dean stilled seeing Sam squirm under him, his gaze roaming over his brother's face, watching as Sam's eyes flitted open and landed on him. "Sorry brother, didn't mean to wake you up again." Dean apologized, quickly continuing with gently rubbing down his brother.

"'S okay Dean." Sam whispered, his eyes tightening ever so slightly as Dean brushed the rag down his skin.

"Sensitive?" Dean asked, lifting the cloth and folding it in half to get a clean piece. Sam nodded minutely, knowing it'd do no good trying to hide it from his brother.

"Sorry Sammy, I'll pick up some of that cream stuff after work…whatever it's called." Dean said, brow lined.

"Stretch mark cream." Sam explained, his expression beginning to go lax again before his breath suddenly hitched and his muscles contracted, eyes widening in vibrant surprise.

"What – Sam? What's going on? What's wrong" Dean asked, panicked at the look on his brother's face. The rag fell to the floor and Dean moved closer to his brother, framing his face in his hands. "Sammy?" Dean repeated, his anxiety growing.

"Dean." Sam whispered in awe, suddenly sucking in another surprised, slightly pained breath before he quickly grabbed one of Dean's hands and held it low and to the right on his belly. "Oh my God." He breathed, staring into Dean's green eyes, seeing he was about to speak and quickly cutting him off, "Wait."

"Sam you're freaking me out, is something wrong, you in pain-?" Dean asked, ignoring his brother's command just before he felt something move up into his hand and slide back down.

Everything was quite for a matter of heartbeats before Dean looked up from where his hand lay and into Sam's wide eyes, "Holy shit."

"I know." Sam exhaled, looking back down to their overlapping hands resting on his stomach, still too shocked to say anything more.

Another kick pushed up into their hands, this one harder and sharper and Dean immediately broke into an ear-splitting grin before falling forward into Sam's mouth, licking at his lips and brushing his thumb over the spot they'd just felt their baby. He slowly moved back and traveled down the length of Sam's torso, his lips brushing over the place his hand had been, "It's about time, you little monsters." He whispered around a smile, chastely kissing the skin again.

He breathed out a contented, awed sigh feeling the wetness on his lashes as his eyes fell closed. Sam brushed a shaking hand through Dean's hair, smiling down at him before his brother pushed himself up off the bed, sniffing.

"God damn, if there was any day to call in..." Dean mumbled shaking his head, "I'm sorry Sammy," Dean breathed leaning in toward his lips once more, "I gotta go. 'M already late."

Sam grinned a little again and nodded, "Go Dean, we'll be fine." He said, his hand moving through Dean's hair and down his cheek, patting him lightly as his hadn rubbed over his moving stomach again. Dean grabbed his hand and pressed his fingertips to his lips.

"Love you Sammy." He said, ducking down once more to his stomach, "And I love you boys. Go easy on pops, huh? I'll teach you both how to box once you're _out_." Dean whispered, smiling and gently patting his brother's belly as Sam laughed, his stomach lightly shaking under Dean's lips as he kissed them goodbye before rushing to get dressed.

"Bye Sammy," Dean called as he stepped out of their bedroom, "See you at five."

"Bye Dean." Sam whispered once the room was already empty.

OoOoOoO

As soon as Dean got to work his eyes flew to the clock. He let out a huge sigh of relief to see he made it in just over five minutes late, quickly straightening out his uniform as he walked further into the mostly empty store.

"Dean," Jeff greeted as he walked passed the front entrance, walkie talkie in hand, "You're here."

"Yes sir, sorry I'm late. Where'd you like me today, I'll get started right away." Dean offered, hoping he hadn't screwed up too badly in just his second week.

"We'll have you on floor today. Been watching you this past couple weeks, you're a people person. Think you'll do well there. Up for it?" Jeff asked, pocketing his communication device and patting his newest employees shoulder.

"Yes sir, of course."

"Dean, enough with the 'sirs'. Think you've about earned the right to call me Jeff from now on."

Dean beamed at his boss, "Thanks, Jeff."

The manager simply nodded and looked around the store, "Well we're a little slow this morning. How about a quick check in." He asked, walking with Dean as they meandered through the store, "Like to see how my employees are doing from time to time. So how's the soon-to-be father?"

Dean raised his brow, looking at the ground as he slowly shook his head, a small smile blossoming across his face.

"Honestly?" He asked, hesitating a moment, his arms crossing over his chest, "Absolutely terrified." He admitted, shrugging. Jeff nodded understandingly, a smirk on his lips.

"They moved today, the twins. For the time. Just before I got here." Dean revealed, the awe and wonder vivid in his voice, "I felt them under my hands, you know? Alive and moving and it just…God it was the most amazing moment. But…it also made everything glaringly real. Not to mention the fact that I just learned they're gonna be boys yesterday." He smirked, his head tossing back and forth again, "I guess it's just a lot to take in at once."

Jeff let out a long whistle just as a high-pitched voice sounded behind them, "I'll bet." Someone exclaimed and Jeff and Dean turned to see Jess standing behind them, stocking tools in an isle.

Dean chuckled shaking his head at her eavesdropping.

"Just what I was going to say," Jeff said, patting Dean's shoulder. "But seriously, hang in there kid. Even if I don't know what it's like to be a father, I know how stressful being responsible for another person can be, so remember to take it one day at a time." He smiled encouragingly. Dean smiled his thanks before Jeff turned and nodded to Jesslyn, spinning on his heal to leave.

"Oh and Dean," Jeff called, turning back around. Dean snapped his head back up toward his boss expectantly, "Congratulations."

He grinned hugely, laughing his dizzy excitement, "Thank you sir." Dean answered sincerely, "I mean Jeff."

His boss snickered and waved them off once again, moving on to inspect the rest of the store.

"Damn," Jess said, watching Jeff leave, "He took to you pretty quick." She smiled, slapping Dean's arm and moving back to her stocking.

Dean shrugged, "Seems to me he's like that with all his workers."

"Yeah pretty much." Jess agreed, "But still, it usually takes him a little longer to invite people into the family of _Jack's_ _Hardware_," She said, lowering her voice to mockingly impersonate their boss.

Dean shook his head and laughed, "Well what can I say, my charm can be pretty damn irresistible I guess." He said, nudging her in the shoulder as he began helping her with the shelves.

Jess scoffed and shoved him back, "Yeah right." They continued working in silent for a couple minutes.

"So you and the mom still together?" Jess asked offhandedly, avoiding Dean's eye as she continued putting boxes on the shelf.

Dean's brow crumpled, thinking over that question once he processed it and going over how exactly he should answer. If any of these people were going to be in their lives, which admittedly was unlikely, but still, if they were, he would have to come up with a reasonable story that they could believe.

"Um, it's…complicated actually. Really complicated." Dean brushed off while still trying to come up with something believable to say.

"Oh, okay. Well, I mean it's not like you owe me any explanation." Jess shrugged indifferently, "But it would make it a little difficult to ask if you'd wanna go to a party with me this weekend."

Dean's brow cocked, a smirk tugged at his lips, "Oh yeah?" He asked, smug in his dead-on ability to predict women. "And why would my complications make a party invitation difficult?" He drawled, playing along.

Jess stopped, her eyes cracking up to Dean as her brow twitched. Dean caught the momentary lapse without ever taking his eyes away from his working hands.

"Why wouldn't it?" Jess shot back, forgoing her attempts to figure out Dean's blasé response and quick alteration of attitude, "Am I gonna have some crazy, pregnant, hormonal chick coming after me with a chain saw if I take you out?"

Dean sucked in a deep breath, set his last box on the shelf, and spun toward Jess, his brow angled and his gaze amused, "Jess sweetheart…" He started, his hand coming down on her shoulder, "I'm gay."

He walked around her, leaving her standing there agape, mouth sealed tight and eyes like dinner plates, helping her finish with her load of merchandise while simultaneously letting her regain composure in private.

"Right." She eventually said, loping to the other side of the crate to continue unloading, "Should've picked up on that one, what with all the rainbow flags and flamboyant attitude shooting out your ass." She shook her head chuckling, "You must be the straightest gay guy I've ever met."

Dean tittered at just how right she didn't know she was.

"But wait, then, where are the kids coming from?" She asked, obviously forgoing the time it took to construct the correct phrasing for her real question.

Dean ignored the slip and answered, albeit untruthfully, what he knew she wanted to know. "I slept with some girl a while back. Momentary lapse of judgment, pleading insanity. I'm not gonna get into it. Just know, my life doesn't have a whole lot of time for parties right now Jess, but thanks for the offer." He explained as they emptied the cart, "I'm gonna get on floor now before Jeff has my ass. I'll see ya." He called, letting out a sigh of relief as he reached an appropriate distance to do so.

He shook his head and chortled under his breath once more as he replayed their conversation, wondering just what would attract a woman to a guy months away from becoming a father.

A father to two beautiful boys with a man he loved more than life itself.

Dean checked the clock once more, unable to help resurfacing the memory of his children moving under his hands or the soft press of Sam's lips on his and quickly calculated the number of hours separating him from the moment he could slide behind the wheel of his baby and get the hell back home.

OoOoOoO

The well-worn, sleep-warmed sheets tangled tightly around Sam's limbs as the deep world of his dreams claimed him, tossing and turning him around in his bed until he resembled a caterpillar, snug and restrained tight in it's cocoon. He squirmed and moaned as vivid displays of an imagined future played out before him - houses and picket fences and playgrounds and high school - until a sudden clanging sound jolted him awake.

"What the-" Sam started, trying desperately to grab for the knife under his pillow. His arms were stuck in his self-enforced restraints. "What-" He flailed again, trying to wriggle more efficiently as another scrapping sound rattled the walls of his room, "Oh my fucking hell, what did I do?" Sam exclaimed under his breath, looking down at his still entrapped body, a little in amazement and a lot in incredulity, finally slowing his brain down enough to think like the hunter he was and untangle himself before seizing his knife.

He heard another soft clicking sound outside his window and saw a silhouetted mass framed in the light pouring through his curtains. He slipped on his boxers and t-shirt quickly but approached slowly, standing off to the side of the window before he yanked back the heavy curtains.

"_What_ the hell!" Someone sputtered outside in faultless shock, retreating quickly before an audible exhale was released. "Shit, man, you scared me!" The man said slowly as Sam encroached past the window lining to peer outside at the threat.

He watched the man take in a better picture of him, stumbling closer as his face pinched up in exertion and confusion, studying him. Sam's nerves immediately launched on edge.

"Sam?"

Sam recoiled at the mention of his name: who was this guy, knowledgeable of his identity and currently trying to break into his room?

"Sam Winchester?" The guy breathed, his face pinching up in what Sam could only discern now as pain, his body swaying precariously on the roof before his window. He looked drunk. "That you? Damn i's been a while." A shake of his head, "You don' 'member me do ya kid." He sounded drunk too.

It was Sam's turn to shake his head, still distrustful of every part of the exchange.

The guy laughed, "It's Caleb."

Sam's brow hit the roof, "Caleb?" He cried, "What the hell? I thought you were on your deathbed at some motel? Isn't Bobby supposed to be staying with you?" Sam asked, quickly moving to grab his extra large sweatshirt and pulling it over his head before ambling toward the window, flipping the latch.

"Well, he went out to grab us lunch, so I thought it'd be the perfect time." He answered as he gingerly climbed through the window and over the salt line, moaning and grunting with every move, no matter how slight.

"Jesus man, lay down before you drop. Meyer'd be pissed if you messed up all his handy work," Sam said as he led Caleb to the bed he hadn't been occupying and forced him down, "If you haven't already." He muttered, giving the man a cursory over-glance.

"Seriously man, what are you doing here? _How_ did you get here? And perfect time for what?" Sam shot off in a ramble, grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand and shoving it toward the hunter's lips.

"I'm here because I'm bored. Those two old women faun after you long enough and you'll do just about anything for a little fresh air." Caleb took a labored breath to continue as Sam cut him off.

"So you come _here_?"

"Good point," Caleb shrugged, "But, if you let me finish…I'll explain. Cause I'm here for a little mystery solving." He explained, eyes squinting overdramatically, as if sharing a confidential secret with someone forbidden to hear, "Ya see there's a reason they wouldn't let me come _here_ to stay Sam." Caleb revealed, his beaded eyes scanning the room as if the answer lay right before them. Sam's face flushed red.

"I intend to find out what the two old geezers are hiding. Taking it upon myself to solve the vague and mysterious mystery that is currently 'The Singer's Salvage.'" He drunkenly disclosed, "Oh, and, I got here with a car. My car. Most people are using them these days Sam, read up on it. Pretty cool lil' invention." He said, laughing deeply at his own joke, completely delirious as he soon fought to catch his breath.

Sam blinked hard, his expression stern and dazed and dubious as he considered the drugged hunter before snapping out of it and quickly steadying the man, "Okay take it easy big shot. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess you are currently high on a generous amount of pain meds for a few pretty extensive injuries, so how 'bout we save the laughing fits for another time." Sam coached, encouraging the man to take another drink.

"But Sam, there was another question." Caleb breathed after he complied, "What…what'd ya ask again?"

"You answered all my questions Caleb," Sam praised taking the drink back again, "Except maybe one. Why were you climbing in the window instead of just using the front door?" Sam asked as it dawned on him.

Caleb looked at him like he was absolutely off his rocker, "Sam." He began sternly, "This was a mystery. The Singer Salvage is room and board to something big and something hidden. I couldn't very well just waltz in the front door and ask; I was investigating. Well, trying to at least. Until you-" Caleb's expression morphed as he chopped his sentence short, "Wait, Sam, why are you here if I'm not allowed here? And for that matter…where's the other half to this infamous duo? Dean around too?"

Sam's eye brows twitched as he glanced to his lap, his mouth dropping open to speak without producing any real sounds.

"Um, Dean's around." He shrugged before casually standing, "Caleb you looked wiped, you just drove yourself here heavily medicated and severely injured before scaling a two story wall, with one leg and one arm…" Sam shook his head in sheer amazement as he thought over just how exactly he'd managed, "You should rest for a bit. I'll, uh, get you up for dinner." Sam said, leaving no room for argument as he left the room, being sure to keep the door cracked open before quickly dropping down the flight of stairs and into the library.

"Meyer, thank God you're here." He breathed, exempted at finding the doctor still in the house. He spotted him before a window, hand on chin as he leaned forward, obviously staring at something intriguing outside.

"Sam. Why is there a…ladder up against the roof in front of your window?" The doctor asked, implication that he already knew the answer all over the disapproving tone of his voice. "If this is some game you and Dean have cooked up to get in and out of that room without us knowing think again because that ladder could not be any less obvious-" Meyer explained, waving toward the device in question as he ranted on.

"Meyer!" Sam shouted, "We're not using the ladder." He spluttered, disbelieving of the idea that Meyer could think they would be so idiotic, "Caleb's here, and I guess _that's_ how he got up to my window without scaling the wall. Thought that sounded a little impossible, even for him."

"Caleb's _here_?"

"In my bedroom, hopefully asleep. Don't ask me how he got here doped up on all the shit you've got him on but he is, and he obviously knows _I'm_ here now." Sam took a breath, "And you wanna know why he's here? Because 'The Singer Salvage is a mysterious mystery' he's come to solve." Sam said, outraged by their newest predicament, "Says he was bored of being holed up and he knew you two were 'hiding something here' being vague about why he couldn't stay. He came to _investigate_."

"Oh this is not good."

"No Meyer. I wouldn't say so."

"Did he say anything about…?" Meyer's hands gestured to the large mound of Sam's stomach, concealed beneath the thick fabric of his over-size sweatshirt.

"No." Sam took a breath, "But we can't exactly hide it forever now, can we?"

OoOoOoO

Dean's day had been going particularly well and he was on cloud nine knowing he could say that meaning every word. The morning had been pure magic, the hours had flown by at work and now he was on his way out the automatic doors of Jack's Hardware and back to the home he was currently craving.

He slid in behind the wheel of his beloved - just as his mild-mannered daydream had had him doing earlier that morning - and turned his key, waiting for the comforting rumble of the engine under his feet. And he continued to wait, patiently. Nothing happened.

Dean twisted the key again, trying once more but again, nothing but a few lame attempted spins of the engine sounded under the hood.

"No." Dean breathed in disbelief, "Come on baby, you can't do this to me, not today." He tried again, "I take good care of you, you know that. Don't fuckin' do this…_damnet_." He slapped the dashboard, relishing the burn in his palm as he forcefully wrenched open the door and moved around to the front hood, unlatching the lock and yanking it upright.

He leaned over the engine, searching out the problem and almost immediately noticed his battery missing, the cover forcefully ripped off and under it, an achingly empty hole. Someone swiped his goddamn battery.

"Are you fucking with me?" Dean cried, throwing his hands up as he looked in disbelief over the missing contents of his car.

"Dean?" A timid, curious voice called behind him. "What's up? Car trouble?"

"You could say that." Dean grunted, turning around to face his coworker. "Someone actually swiped my battery, in the middle of the goddamn fucking parking lot, they stole _my_ battery. How? It was busy today, how would no one notice?" He yelled in frustration.

Jess took another step closer to look for herself, hissing in a breath as she studied the damage, "Damn, I'm sorry dude." She said patting his chest before backing up, "I can give you a ride home if you need?"

Dean sighed rubbing a hand through his short hair and shutting his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his bearings and force down his overwhelming anger to answer her.

"No," He grit out as calmly as he could, "I'll call a friend to come get me."

Jess recoiled a little at that, her face confused, "What am I, chopped liver?"

"No, no." Dean retracted, realizing what he'd said, "No, he can just…he'll bring me…" _What, a new battery? _Dean didn't know what excuse he was trying to concoct but it was failing pretty miserably, "Uh, well…" He fumbled, pulling his cell out and clicking a button as he stalled. But then he noticed nothing happened. It was dead.

"Fuck," He groused, "Well, um, God this day turned around fast." Another breath, "Okay. Yeah, I guess a ride would be nice. Thank you." Dean accepted, still uneasy at the idea of bringing an outsider to their house but choosing the easiest way he saw out, simply yearning to see his brother again.

Sam was still grumbling uneasily around the house, hours later, when an unfamiliar engine sounded the arrival of an unfamiliar car pulling up into their drive.

"What the hell?" Sam whispered approaching the window and pulling back the curtains. There was a black Toyota parked out front; he noticed Dean in the passenger seat, looking over at the driver: a women about the same age, her long red locks flowing over well displayed cleavage. Sam hated her right away.

She leaned over the middle console, unsubtly flashing said cleavage in Dean's face as she pulled her lips back in a quick smile, laughing raucously at something his brother said.

Sam felt blood heating his face as he studied the exchange, his teeth grinding between clenched jawbones. His eyes glued themselves to his brother as Dean continued speaking, his own smirk pulling at his lips as he tilted his head in what could only be interpreted as a bow of thanks and opened his door, climbing out.

The red head waved overzealously at Dean as he padded towards their front door, his brother turning to wave back. Sam slowly turned himself around on the couch he'd been leaning on to face his brother as he came through the door.

"Hey Sammy." Dean greeted, his voice low and gritty, telltale signs of distress.

"Who was that?" Sam asked as casually as he could, his eyes flipping over to the window to indicate his meaning.

"Just some girl at work." Dean shrugged, "You won't believe what happened-"

"What girl at work?" Sam disrupted. His brother's brow crunched together.

"Jess. The one who trained me…" He answered, his confusion clear in his tone and expression, "Why does it matter? I'm trying to tell you what-"

"It matters because without hearing a word of that conversation and from watching a hundred feet away, it was way too damn clear that she was _throwing_ herself at you, Dean." Sam explained calmly, his underlying anger just barely hiding beneath the surface.

"Oh come on Sam, you seriously jealous right now?"

"Well considering your past, the one I'm _all_ too familiar with, I don't see why I shouldn't be? She's exactly your type Dean, big boobs and a vagina. What am I supposed to do, just let it go and wait for you to slip?" Sam asked coolly, venom pulsing in the meaning of his words. His out-of-control hormones exacerbated by the crazy stress of the day threw him into an irrational rage at seeing their flirty exchange.

Dean stood there stock-still and fuming. His nostrils flared, his hands in fists, his back rigid and shoulders tense. "I have done _nothing_ to deserve this." He enunciated slowly, one pointed finger stabbing at the floor in time with his clipped words.

"Sam, Dean." Meyer said, coming down the flight of stairs slowly, obviously having heard a good portion of their conversation, "Um, I…I don't mean to interrupt but we kind of have a situation to discuss."

TBC


	20. I'm Begging You

_This half of the chapter seriously came out of nowhere. I was just writing, chugging along, and it just happened. Lots an lots of angst and fear. Are you guys recognizing a pattern? I'm surprised you're not sick of me yet _

_Lemme know what you gents think._

_Xx_

Dean and Sam didn't move for a handful of heartbeats, both staring down the other, unwilling to back down until Meyer officially interrupted, approaching from behind and stepping between them. "Come on boys, work this out later. Sam, in case you've forgotten there are other, more pressing issues to tend to now." Meyer explained.

Sam looked out the window, inhaling deeply as Dean snapped his eyes over to the doctor, "What issues? What are you talking about?"

"Dean, we had a visitor today." Dean's heart dropped, a million worst-case scenarios flashing through his head in the second it took for Meyer to continue, "Caleb showed up in front of you're bedroom window while Sam was sleeping." Dean's brow wrinkled, "He got suspicious of us, keeping him in a motel instead of allowing him here, and apparently came to 'investigate' what we were hiding. I had him on all sorts of pain medication and antibiotics; it didn't even cross my mind to worry about him leaving that room unsupervised. I didn't think he'd be able to. But…I was wrong. And now he's upstairs sleeping."

Dean waded through his ire to process that disturbing chunk of news, feeling a new, helpless, somewhat unbelieving anger taking its place. An anger for their inability to catch a break - an anger that someone, and not just anyone but a _hunter_, broke in and was now in their house, prodding around in their lives.

"_What_?"

Meyer nodded solemnly.

"Why didn't any of you call me?" Dean raged.

"We did." Sam shot back reminding his brother that it had died.

Dean shook his head, refusing to dignify Sam's statement. "Well, we need to get him out of here. Does Bobby know? Where is he?"

"He knows. He's upstairs with Caleb, keeping watch. We've learned the hard way that we really can't leave him alone."

"You think?" Dean sighed, "So what're we gonna do? How do we get him out of here without him asking questions?"

Sam's eyes shut tight, his teeth grinding as he let out a frustrated sigh. Meyer looked to the ground by his feet, his eyes searching the floor without really seeing it as he sifted through ideas.

"We don't." Sam shrugged, his eyes avoiding his brother's, "He knows I'm here which means he knows you're here and as soon as he's well enough to be conscious without all the meds he's gonna know _all_ the right questions to ask. He's gonna figure out that _something's_ going on here, ma ybe not what exactly but he's gonna know for sure we're hiding something, especially if we try and hide _me_." Sam finished looking at his stomach as he stopped for a breath, "We're screwed."

Meyer looked reluctant to believe that but said nothing to retort, as did Dean. Because if they were both honest with themselves, they knew he was right.

"We'll figure something out. Let's all just think on this and talk about it later. I'm gonna go back up with Bobby and Caleb, make sure he's still asleep." He excused himself, feeling satisfied - for the moment at least - that everyone was updated on their most current predicament and itching to leave the awkward tension of the room, knowing the boys had things to work out themselves.

"Yeah we'll see you in a bit." Dean dismissed, hoping Bobby and Meyer would keep themselves sparse as he and Sam discussed whatever the hell had just happened between them.

Meyer nodded and ascended the stairs, leaving them in silence.

Dean waited for Sam's apology, still seething from his outburst of irrational jealousy but willing to let things slide for more important matters if he would just say he was wrong. So he continued to wait, mustering as much patience as he could to remain calm, watching Sam stare out the window, and ignore him completely.

"Are you serious Sam?" Dean finally broke.

Sam turned to look at him.

"You really just gonna sit there and stare out the fucking window?" Dean asked disbelievingly, "I'm surprised. You sure as hell had quite a bit to say a few minutes ago, _now_ you can't talk?"

"Shut up Dean. Just leave me alon-"

"_Shut up?" _Dean cried advancing on his brother, "Leave you alone? What the fuck Sam?" Dean sucked in a breath, "What the hell happened in the few hours I was gone that I deserve _this_ the second I'm through the door? Huh? Did I actually _do_ something to piss you off?" He asked rhetorically.

"Who the hell are you? Its like I left for a few hours to come home to this pissy, irrational, insecure little bitch! You're really gonna sit there, accuse me of cheating - of being some sleazy bastard who's ready to just fuck anything that moves – and then tell _me_ to shut up after I've been _nothing_ but supportive of you and us since this whole thing started?" Dean panted, watching Sam's masked expression twitch as he raised his voice, "Well fuck you too Sam."

Sam finally looked up to Dean's eye, almost literally able to see the steam rise up off his skin with the level of his anger, and took a deep breath, his mask of indifference already having melted, beginning to show the guilt and fear and anguish beneath it.

"Dean-"

"_Shut up_ Sam." Dean responded venomously, "I don't wanna hear it." He finished seriously, turning on his heel to storm from the room.

Sam listened to the stomping footsteps come to an stop in the library, feeling the hurt, shock and _guilt_ ride over him as all his brother's true words echoed in his head. He slammed his eyes shut feeling tears slip down his cheeks.

"Fuck." He whispered, just wanting his brother to come back. "No." He whimpered pathetically, feeling the wetness travel down under his collar, coming to rest in the divot of his chest as his head dropped back on the couch dismally and one choked, silent sob broke free. "I'm sorry." He breathed on a heavy sigh, trying to re-gather his bearings.

Sam pushed himself off the couch and rushed to the library, stopping short when he spotted his brother leaning on the desk, his hands gripping the ledge tight as his shoulders tensed, his back hunched and taut. He was beyond angry.

"Please brother, listen for a sec. Let me explain-" Sam pleaded thickly, silent tears twinkling in his eyes.

"No Sam." Dean growled not bothering to turn around, "Whatever apology you've got cooked up to explain _that_...I don't wanna hear. There's nothing you could say to explain why you would think that because I had to get a ride home with a coworker, one who just happens to be a woman, that I'm jumping into bed with her the first chance I get." Dean shook his head before halfway looking over his shoulder, not meeting Sam's gaze, "Just to know you even have a doubt that '_I'll slip'_…"

"Dean I was wrong." Sam protested, "I was wrong to say that and stupid to jump down you're throat. Especially just because I was-"

"You know what Sam?" Dean sniped, finally looking at his distraught brother, "I really don't feel like hearing this right now. I've had a shit day and I need some time to cool down. Alone." He said shortly, leaving the library, "I'll call you for dinner later."

Dean entered the kitchen no less mad than he was a half hour ago but ready to at least try and calm down so he could hear Sam out. He didn't want to be fighting with him, this day of all days, but to be ambushed the second he was through the door with half-assed accusations and outrageous jealous slights? He needed a little time to compose himself in order to listen to Sam _explain_.

A rough growl escaped him again as he shuddered in anger, thinking back on their exchange and unable to imagine how at the moment any words could make up for Sam basically calling him a whore because he got a ride home. He shook his head, gruffly rubbing his hands through his hair and down his face, trying to shake out some of the rage.

The whole reason he'd rushed home was to be with Sam, to vent to him and laugh about Jess's proposition and make the shit parts of the day okay again, so he worked hard to keep taking deep breaths and calm down as he started a pot of boiling water and retrieved the last packet of pasta. Maybe cooking would actually help to get his mind off things.

Because he wanted to talk to Sam soon and work this out: he'd had things planned for their afternoon agenda, like picking up a baby-names book and a parenting book and that stretch mark cream stuff; he wanted to get past this as soon as possible – there were things to be done.

And, not to mention, Caleb to worry about. He'd almost forgot he was upstairs, sleeping in one of their beds.

Dean's hand, jerkily stirring the boiling pasta, came to a stand still as he looked up at the ceiling and sighed dismally.

There was always something keeping them on their toes, keeping them restless and spread too thin, almost always in a pickle. He didn't think he could call himself a Winchester if there wasn't but damn, sometimes he wished for more than a few-days break.

He wanted a reprieve. A breather. A vacation. Time to calm him and Sam down and simply be.

Dean turned off the stove, those wistful thoughts still lingering in his mind as he went to retrieve the spaghetti sauce from the fridge. He rapidly spotted the desired jar and grabbed it, backing away before spinning around to find a bowl.

But just as the refrigerator door slammed shut, a tumbling crash sounded above him, shaking the ceiling, and the jar of sauce dropped to the floor, shattering glass and spaghetti sauce everywhere.

Dean froze, his head snapping up toward the booming sound as his heart plummeted and his skin flashed hot and then cold, breaking out into goose bumps as the hair on the back of his neck stood.

He knew right away that that sound had not been some pile of books falling off a shelf or a box of old junk slipping out of someone's hands. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. And a half second later, footsteps were pounding on the floorboards above; voices were jumbling in a panic as someone clomped around upstairs.

"Sam?" Dean roared as he launched toward the flight of stairs, taking them two by two and following the noise to the bathroom. "Sam!" Dean screamed cracking the door right down the middle in his haste to get in as it slammed against the wall and bounced back against his body.

Dean was stunned still as his eyes scanned over the horrific scene his mind couldn't quite yet process, his arms melting to lead and his legs prickling numb as the images before him started jerking around in slow motion.

"Sam." He breathed before his legs gave and he crashed forward into the ledge of the tub, not even registering Bobby and Meyer trying to speak to him, trying to wrestle his deadweight out of the bathroom. He couldn't feel anything, the whole world was blurring in and out of focus around him, everything but the central point of his vision.

_Sam_: the prone, unconscious figure in the tub, on his back, head rested awkwardly against the hot and cold knobs and arms splayed wildly to his sides - blood pooling around the whole of his figure. Spindly, red trails running down his face, his chest, soaking his arms and leaving veiny tracks like a map covering his swollen belly.

Something in him snapped.

"Sam!" He screeched, the cry reverberating through the small confines of the bathroom as his hands scrambled for his brother, "Oh God, no baby. _No_." He half screamed, half sobbed, still trying to get to him. "Sammy talk to me! Wake up, God, please baby wake up. Sam!" He bellowed and groaned desperately, his hands clawing at the porcelain of the tub. His fists white-knuckled the edge of the tub as he tried to pull himself forward just as strong arms wrapped around his waist, yanking him back.

He didn't even realize he'd been kicking and fighting the other two people in the room until he felt those arms restraining him, pulling him away from the one and only thing he cared about, bleeding out in that bathtub.

"Get offa me! Sam! Sammy!" He wailed, throwing his elbows and feet back into whoever was dragging him away.

He heard the grunts and curses behind him as each of his blows connected, but he didn't care. He didn't care who he was hurting; _Sam_ was in that bathroom, that little room he was watching from a growing distance, and he could be dead for all he knew. All he'd seen was so much blood.

Sam _needed_ him. _He_ needed _Sam_. He had to get back.

"Please get off. Get off!" Dean continued screaming, thrashing wildly in the arms of whoever had yanked him away, "My God Sam, please, 'm beggin' you. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. Sammy _please_." Dean sobbed eventually going limp, defeated in the arms of his restrainer.

"Dean!" Someone called, the sound finally breaking through the buzzing haze that had surrounded his head. He twitched toward the noise. "There ya go kid, can you hear me?" The voice kept speaking and Dean felt his body drop into something soft, a hand patting his cheek, "Come on son listen to me." It barked and something hard slapped across his face.

Dean didn't realize he'd had his eyes squeezed shut until they finally snapped open, a blazing fog of colors blinding him as he did. He saw Bobby.

"Bobby," Dean whispered desolately, his frantic panic slowly resurfacing.

"You with me now Dean?"

Dean blinked, his heart picking up with his shallow breaths, "Please Bobby." Dean croaked, "Sam." He breathed, showing his despairing need to get back to his brother in just the simple way that name fell from his lips as he took in a shuddering breath, continuous silent droplets falling down his face.

"Hang on son, get a hold of yourself first. We gotta get Sam outta the tub, you hear me?" Bobby breathed heavily, out of air from wrestling Dean, "By the looks of it he slipped, hit his head pretty damn hard so I need you to stay with me, alright? We could use your help to get him outta there." Bobby explained now that Dean could hear and hopefully process the information. But he saw Dean slipping back into shock, his eyes combing the floor feverishly, his breathing nearing on hyperventilation.

"Dean." Bobby yelled, "Don't do this again, damnet." He shook his head, "Fine stay here. I gotta help Meyer get him out of the tub okay? Just _stay here_." He demanded roughly, "Stay out of the way until you get yourself under control."

"No Bobby," Dean shook his head, shaking out his shoulders and taking a deep steady breath, sniffling before blinking back his relentless tears, "No I'm okay. I can help, Sam needs me. Let's go."

Dean was already off the couch and up the stairs before Bobby could even get another word out.

"Dean," Meyer greeted quickly as the boy came to a stop in the doorway. He was holding a towel to Sam's head, his other hand lightly feeling around Sam's stomach, "You back with us?" He asked apprehensively, "I need you to help me get him downstairs now." He commanded intensely, his voice sharp and professional despite the sweat dripping down the sides of his face in clear frenzied worry.

Dean nodded jerkily, his eyes avoiding Sam's naked, unconscious body in the tub, still haloed by the deep red blood. He grabbed a towel, laying it over his brother, as much for his decency as for his temperature, and knelt against the ledge by Sam's head, his tears dripping into his brother's hair as the other two men positioned themselves around Sam to help lift him.

"Alright guys, on three." Meyer directed, "One, two, _three_." He grunted as they picked Sam's lax form up from the tub, blood dripping obscenely from his body back down into the puddle as he gained a few inches off the ground, splashing the thick red liquid over the pristine white tiles of the newly cleaned tub.

"God." Dean ground out under his breath, slamming his eyes shut to push down his nausea before shaking his head, swallowing thickly, and leading the four of them out of the bathroom.

They took the stairs quickly but kept Sam as still as possible, not knowing the extent of his injuries yet and wanting to make sure they weren't exacerbated. Soon though Sam was being lain onto the freshly changed sheets of the cot in the basement, surrounded my machines that Dean prayed, once again, would potentially save his and their babies' lives.

A thought he hoped in vein, he would never have to think again.

"Meyer-"

"Not now Dean," The doctor barked, swabbing the skin on Sam's left hand before plunging a thick needle into a vein. Dean swallowed hard before dropping into the chair by Sam's head, uncontrollably shaking as he watched Meyer direct Bobby around the room, grabbing supplies and rolling over machines, helping with whatever he needed until eventually it all faded into a soft buzzing noise of the background, his eyes blurring around the edges as he watched Sam's face only, following the fresh and dried trails of blood covering his skin.

Soon Bobby's hand entered his narrow picture, working deftly to sift through Sam's thick, sticky locks to find the wound, razor in hand as cut away the hair obstructing his view. Soon a curved needle was being threaded and curved through Sam's leaking gash. Dean couldn't stop his tears, he couldn't move, he couldn't feel, could only watch, helpless, as everything important in his life seemed to slip away.

Then Sam twitched.

The haze started fading immediately. He leaned forward, closer to Sam's face.

"Sam?" He didn't move, "It's okay lil' bro, you're alright." Dean whispered next to his ear, brushing his fingers down Sam's sticky cheek as Bobby spared him a quick, cursory glance and nodded in approval before continuing his stitching.

Bobby threaded the needle through his skin again and Sam groaned lowly, his head falling to the side. Dean's head snapped down to Meyer for direction but was sidetracked when he noticed the doctor working on Sam's stomach, exposed above the sheet with something strapped over the middle. Dean then heard the two double whooshing sounds emanating from one of the machines, monitoring heartbeats.

Dean managed a quick, pathetic smile before Sam's hand twitched up, turning his attention back to him - his brow scrunching as his eyes turned to slits, barely opening. He whimpered.

"Sammy." Dean croaked softly in overwhelming, heart-stopping relief, "Its okay baby hang on."

"Bobby," Meyer barked, offering over a syringe, "Numb him," He said softly, never taking his eyes away from his own workings.

"O-ow," Sam stuttered quietly, "Wha' happened?" He slurred, his hand reaching up toward his head. Dean quickly intercepted him and brought it back down clasped tightly in his.

"Just stay still Sammy, it'll be over in a second." Dean said as he lightly gripped Sam's chin making sure he didn't jerk when Bobby inserted the needle.

Sam's face crunched into a grimace, obviously confused and scared, "Stop." He groaned, turning to squirm away.

"Shh Sammy, you're okay. Stay still." Dean ordered gently as Bobby backed away with the empty syringe and quickly got back to work.

"Dean." Meyer snipped and Dean turned toward the doctor, "I uh, need to talk to you. We've got a little bit of a…" The doctor's eyes flipped up to Sam for a brief second, seeing his eyes were shut and not focused on them, and continued, "He's in labor Dean." Meyer confessed quickly, looking down at his working hands, adjusting straps and managing IV stands.

Dean felt like his guts had just been ripped out, his breath punching out of him as his body went stock-still, his eyes wide and empty, staring at Sam's stomach – the skin still streaked in a map of dried blood. He tried again to understand what he'd just heard.

"You have to stay with me Dean. I know it's a lot, but I need you right now. Sam needs you. And I need to get some blood back into him before I can give him the drugs to try and stop these contractions." Meyer explained, still moving around in hyper-speed, "He had one just before he woke, next is coming soon. Keep him calm through it. They won't be too bad yet but any stress is _not_ good right now. It'll only speed this up, you understand?"

Dean took in a shuddering breath, trying to work through the new information, "Why? Why's he in labor, I don't understand it's too early." He said desolately, feeling conspired against and confused.

"The fall shook them all up. Too much distress on the parent, too much blood loss, too much time unconscious," Meyer shot off quickly, shrugging, "It's not uncommon, especially since he's carrying twins."

Dean sighed shakily before nodding, feeling renewed tears of desolation run down the dried tracks. He quickly swiped them away.

"Look after your brother and we'll get through this, Dean. Just keep him calm, everything's gonna be okay." Meyer comforted quietly, taking a moment to focus on Dean as he spoke before turning away once more, going back to his monitoring.

"Sammy," Dean whispered moving back up toward his brother's head, "Hey baby." He greeted with a smile as Sam opened his eyes.

"Dean." He breathed weakly, "What happened?" He asked again, his face crinkling in confusion as he slipped in and out of total awareness.

"You took quite a fall in the shower you klutz." Dean teased lightheartedly, trying to laugh through his tears.

Sam's face paled, "'M God, th' babies?" He breathed heavily, his gaze moving down to his stomach, spotting the bloody marks covering his skin, his eyes widening further in horror.

"Sam it's okay," Dean said turning his head back toward him now that Bobby was done stitching, "They're gonna be okay. The blood's from your head which is all patched up now, everything's gonna be alright." He coached, calming his brother.

Dean watched as Sam relaxed minutely, stroking the side of his stomach as he debated telling him the full extent of what was going to happen. He quickly decided letting a contraction come out of nowhere would only spike Sam's fear if he didn't know what was happening, and opened his mouth to explain.

"Sam-"

But Sam sucked in a quick breath of surprise, cutting him off before letting it out in a low groan. "Ow, Dean. Ow, something's wrong-"

Dean heart rate soared, "Listen to me Sam. Everything's okay, you hear me?" He quickly disrupted to explain, "You're having a contraction. I need you to breathe for me Sammy. We're gonna get them to stop, alright? But I need you to relax." He soothed as Bobby handed him a clean, wet rag to gently cool his distressed brother off with. Dean nodded his thanks and stroked over Sam's forehead, "Just take a deep breath Sam."

"Contraction?" Sam breathed, panicked, "It hurts Dean." He objected, clutching his stomach, "It's too early, I can't have them yet, they're not gonna make it-"

"Sam." Dean barked, quieting his brother, "That's not gonna happened." He enforced, "Meyer's getting' you hooked up to some drugs that'll stop this okay? But only if you relax, any stress will just speed this up. You understand?"

Sam's breath hitched on a quite sob as the contraction finally faded and he nodded, "I don't wanna lose 'em. Can't lose 'em, Dean."

"That's why you gotta settle down," Dean continued through his tight throat, stroking the cloth over Sam's skin, slowly washing away the blood. Bobby seemed to notice the dirty state of the rag and brought over a large bowl of water to rinse it out in. "Thanks," Dean whispered thickly before returning his attention to Sam.

"How you feelin' Sammy?" Dean asked softly a few seconds later, taking advantage of the quiet moment to look intently into his half-lidded eyes for signs of concussion.

"'M fine. They really gonna be okay?" Sam asked again, tears forming in his golden orbs. Dean nodded, trying to hold himself together to comfort his confused, feeble brother.

"They're gonna be okay Sam. You protected 'em real well." Dean praised as Meyer approached the other side of the bed with a penlight.

"Alright Sam how you really feeling, truth this time?" Meyer asked, "Nauseous at all, seeing anything double, vision whiting out?" He continued questioning quickly but calmly, knowing they were on a time crunch before the next contraction.

"Lil' nauseous, everythin's fuzzy but there's only one a' you." He explained dizzily trying to keep his gaze focused on the doctor.

Meyer nodded thoughtfully, "Can I have you look at the ceiling for me bud?"

Sam complied and Meyer brought his hand down to hold open one of his eyes, "Just keep lookin' up."

He clicked on the light and Dean grabbed Sam's hand, stroking it calmingly as the doctor quickly flashed the bright beam across his pupil making Sam cry out briefly in pain.

"Alright Sammy hang in there." Dean cooed hoarsely, rubbing Sam's arm.

"Almost done." Meyer muttered watching to see if and how much Sam's pupils dilated. "Okay, finished." He said as his patient keened in distress, and he turned off the light. Sam's hand flew up sloppily to cover his eyes, "You've got a concussion, but it doesn't look like it's bad enough to worry about right this second." Meyer sighed in a breath of relief, "So for now, I just want you to listen to Dean and keep yourself relaxed."

Sam groaned, "My head hurts." He mumbled, one hand still thrown over his eyes and one resting protectively on his stomach. Dean took up his cloth again, rewetting it and wringing it out.

"I know Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean quelled, softly patting the rag over Sam's face and sweat-sheened chest.

"Oh God." Sam panted mere moments later, flinging his arm off his eyes and slamming it into the bed to clutch at the sheets, "Sammy remember to breathe." Dean instructed continuing to wet down his flushed skin with the cloth.

Sam moaned, the sound too high-pitched and agonized for Dean's ease, "Ah, my back." He cried softly, "Shit, Dean." He panted, his voice hitching as he breathed harshly through his teeth.

"Let's try getting you on your side Sam," Meyer said, hurriedly coming around to Sam's right, "See if we can't get the pressure to let up a little."

Meyer glanced at Dean, motioning for him to help and they slowly worked together to get Sam curled up on his left side, hugging the pillow under his head. Dean retook his seat in front of his brother.

The doctor and Dean continued encouraging Sam to stay calm until the contraction passed and Sam let out a shaky sigh.

"Okay Sam, the drugs seem to be doing their job. That one didn't last as long and took a little longer to come." Meyer said looking at his watch, "These'll stop soon alright, just hang in there. You're doin' good. Try and get some rest if you can." He advised before moving away from the bed, leaving the real comforting to Dean.

Sam nodded numbly, his eyes still closed and his grip still tight on his pillow.

"You really are doing great Sam. 'M proud of you." Dean breathed close to Sam's face as he brushed his fingers over his brother's fists, coaxing them to unclench. Sam pulled away, tucking his head further down the pillow.

"Sam?"

"Stop Dean," Sam husked, "Don' do this." He breathed tiredly.

"What?"

"_This_. Taking care of me, bein' proud of me? There's no reason for it so please just stop." He mumbled, "I don't deserve it." He finally admitted, "Not because I hit my head and definitely not after…everything I said and especially not after almost killing our-"

"Don't even go there Sam." Dean warned, no real heat behind his words, "This isn't the time to talk about any of that, okay?" He said gently, rubbing his thumb along Sam's wrist, "We can talk it around in circles once you're better I promise, but for now, just let me be there for you guys." He pleaded quietly, lightly treading a handful of the rag across the skin of Sam's stomach, gradually washing away the remnants of the blood.

Sam looked at him with wide, strikingly innocent, dark eyes brimming with tears, and nodded before he blinked and let them fall.

Dean watched as Sam's eyes shut, wiping away his tears as Sam relaxed, hoping it meant he might try and sleep as long as the contractions let up.

He jumped, startled from his thoughts when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Sorry Dean, didn't mean to scare ya." Bobby said looking from Dean to Sam, who he saw was resting fairly calmly now.

"Where've you been?" Dean asked quietly, noticing now that he hadn't seen the old man in a while.

"Been in and out a few times, got Sam some ice chips and water." He gestured to the nightstand. Dean wondered how he'd missed that, "Been gettin' Meyer whatever he needed, took care of dinner." He shrugged negligently.

"Dinner," Dean breathed shaking his head, "Feels like a lifetime ago. I completely forgot. I'm sorry Bobby-"

"I think just this once you had reasonable excuse to let it slip your mind. Quit apologizin'."

Dean nodded his thanks before turning back to Sam, his punishing mind dredging up the moment he'd heard that crash upstairs. His heart dropped with his stomach, shuddering with fear as he re-experienced everything he had in that second, shutting his eyes to the dismaying scene that continued playing itself out in his head.

"Come in kid don't do this to yourself." Bobby reprimanded lightly, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "None of this was your fault, don't torture yourself with it."

A few silent seconds passed.

"I thought I lost him Bobby." Dean finally rasped, heartache throbbing in his words, "I thought I lost all of them." He confessed on a sigh, dropping his head into his hands.

Bobby crouched down to his level, brow knit together, eyes glassy and seeping compassion, and he opened his mouth to speak when suddenly Sam drew in a sharp breath, drawing away both their attention.

Dean had tears in his eyes when Sam opened his, looking for comfort from his big brother as his hand reached out and latched onto Dean's, holding on tight.

Dean leaned in and kissed Sam's palm, drawing his other hand around to gently massage the aching muscles in his back as the contraction started. He didn't speak, simply sat there with his brother, being whatever he needed him to be as the pain peaked and until it passed.

"Okay Sam," Meyer spoke once Sam's exhausted breath of relief left him, "We're definitely going in the right direction. That was ten minutes from your last contraction, I'd say we're about done." Meyer comforted, smiling down at the youngest Winchester with pride on his face. Sam tried to smile back but his eyes were heavy and his body, weak - his head pounding with the rhythm of his heart.

"Okay, then can we take care of his head now, he's still in pain." Dean said to Meyer, picking up all the signals that gave his brother away.

"Wow." A voice sounded at the doorway, shocking the four occupants of the room out of the conversation as they turned toward the sound, "Was wonderin' what all the screamin'd been about."

Caleb stood in the doorway, breathing in awe as his suspiciously clearer gaze looked over Sam's bloated, still slightly blood-streaked belly, "Guess I solved it." He said, wonder and fear and astonishment in his wide eyes.

Everything seemed silent for a handful of seconds: the air stilling, breaths stopping, bodies freezing – until Sam's heart monitor started firing off, beeping uncontrollably as his stress-levels rocketed. He neared hyperventilation as he realized his worst fear coming true, watching Caleb study him, so vulnerable and exposed, all his most precious secrets on display.

Everything broke into chaotic action again.

"Get him out of here Bobby!" Dean shouted, his eyes blazing with rage as Meyer stormed around the bed to tend to his patient.

Dean shot Caleb a staggeringly furious death-glare, watching his confused face disappear as Bobby muscled him out of the room. The second he was out of sight he turned back to his brother.

"Shh Sammy, come on look at me man, breathe." Dean shushed as calmly and confidently as he could, praying to the Gods that Sam wouldn't put himself back into labor, "It's okay, we'll take care of it okay? Don't worry about him; he's no threat to us, you understand? You need to focus on yourself, on our babies." Dean reminded desperately, his hand a steady reinforcement on Sam's jaw, keeping him grounded as he tried to focus through his panic.

"Dean," Sam gasped, still trying to catch his breath, "Caleb…what if he tells? What if he wants to kill me? Kill _them_? This isn't natural Dean," Sam cried holding his stomach, "He's a hunter. Now he knows I'm different, he's not gonna understan-"

"Sam!" Dean quieted, softening his tone once he got Sam's attention, "I'm right here baby. 'M right here. You really think I'd let him do that? Not gonna let anything happen to you, any of you, now calm down." Dean ordered sternly, "You listenin' to me Sam? Take a deep breath."

Sam looked to his brother trustfully and did his best to comply, inhaling deeply through his nose, closing his eyes. And just as Dean was about to sigh in relief Sam's calm breath turned into a short groan, "No." He whispered, "Oh God. No, no." He grabbed the underside of his stomach, curling in on himself. "'M Sorry." Sam said opening his eyes again before gasping, "No, stop. Shit. 'M sorry Dean, 'm sorry. I tried."

"Okay, it's okay." Dean nodded, trying to emanate confidence when all he felt was panic. "Sh, sh, sh Sammy. It's alright. Deep breaths." He calmed trying to hide his terror as he looked to Meyer worriedly. But the doctor was back to messing with the IV stand, adjusting the frequency of the drip, flashing his gaze down to his patient as he worked, a hint of concern flashing through his roaming eyes.

Dean ground his teeth in frustration, surprised to find himself praying once again, begging for the contractions to stop, for their children to be okay, for his brother to relax.

Dean squeezed Sam's hand, feeling his stupid tears return and blinking roughly before his brother could notice, "It'll be okay." He whispered, slowly rubbing the muscles in Sam's back again.

"Dean." Sam keened fearfully, his watery eyes meeting his brother's, pleading for comfort, for solution, for this to be over, "'M scared." He breathed through a tight grimace, his tears wetting the already soaked pillow.

Dean breathed in precariously, his mask breaking down at the soft admission, his face twitching in its attempt to stay unaffected and strong, "Don't be scared, Sammy." He whispered slowly, standing carefully and walking around to the other side of the bed, meeting Meyer's eye determinedly and defiantly before slipping onto the bed with his brother, wrapping an arm protectively around his hard stomach, "Sh, sh. I'm right here."

Sam exhaled contentedly, feeling the contraction slowly recede as he laced his fingers through Dean's, unable to muster the energy to care that the doctor was with them, probably watching. His trembling slowly calmed as his brother's warm body pressed up behind his own, wrapped protectively around him and he let the safety and reassurance and grounding presence of Dean wash over him, finally feeling he could relax.

"Thank you." He said squeezing Dean's hand and nestling back into his brother.

"It'll be okay now guys," Sam whispered breathily but confidently, rubbing their entwined hands along his stomach as his eyes shut softly and his body gradually unwound, "Everything'll be alright."

Dean let out a short sigh against the back of Sam's neck, delicately tickling the little hairs there before smiling tenderly, pressing his lips to the soft curls and nodding. "Yeah, it will."

Meyer blinked, the tears that fell snapping him out of his own head as he watched the boys' intimate moment. He quickly slapped up his hand to wipe the evidence away, surprised to find it there as he drew in a silent breath, huffing and sniffing before quickly busied himself with another task.

Except he didn't find anything he needed to do but wait, so he pretended to organize, simply trying to find something to distract himself from the overwhelming intensity of witnessing so much unadulterated, all-consuming love between two people as they used it to pull each other, once again, through an impossibly tense, incredibly terrifying situation.

It was as frightening as it was exhilarating and something he had never encountered before – so pure it almost didn't seem real.

The contractions eventually stopped sometime in the night and twelve hours later, Dean was still wrapped around Sam. They were finally slumbering peacefully after a night of interruptions as Meyer had woken them ever hour to check on Sam's concussion. Both were exhausted from the endless tears and anguish and fear of the previous day, now gladly taking every second of sleep they could get.

Dean finally woke sometime later, sniffling and blinking softly in the darkness of the room, sluggishly remembering where he was as he spotted the slivers of light peaking into the room from overhead. The spinning fan casting rays of the late morning sun over them as it slowly spun hypnotically above.

Dean lazily yawned, stretching out his aching muscles and rubbing his swollen eyes, trying not to wake Sam as he woke himself.

Sam moaned anyway, the sound instantly setting Dean's nerves on edge, as he blinked his eyes opened, looking curiously up at his brother. Dean sighed, letting his fear go once he saw Sam wasn't in any pain.

"Sorry man, didn't mean to wake you." He apologized gently before leaning down to peck Sam on the lips, meaning to merely greet him good morning as he cupped his face in his palms soothingly. A second later though, that intention was lost and forgotten, his whole body shuddering with the intense sensation of relief coursing through him as he licked at Sam's lips – the feeling like drawing in a long breath after being held under water, or feeling ice cold liquid slide down your throat after a burning summer day in the sun.

The intense wave of comfort and safety and relief shocked him, springing tears into his stinging eyes as he resituated himself on the bed, pushing deeper into Sam's mouth, gripping his head in his hands and holding them both steady. He lost himself in Sam, feeling every ache and sting and fear of the past day fade into the waves of the background until he could focus solely on his brother, letting each of them heal the other.

"God." Sam whispered against Dean's lips once he finally backed away and inch, "That's one way to wake up." He breathed, grinning softly as he threaded his fingers through Dean's hair, rubbing his brother's back as his head dipped down to rest on Sam's collarbone.

Sam swallowed thickly as he relaxed into the bed, watching the fan above spin slowly, his mind gradually wandering to recall all the yesterday's events, cringing as his guilt crept in again.

"Dean." Sam breathed, his brother rolled his head on his chest, not looking at him yet but acknowledging that he was listening, "I'm – I'm really sorry about yesterday." He apologized croakily, "Not just for being an idiot wreck and slipping in the shower, but for everything I said before that. It was so stu-"

"Sam," Dean rasped lifting his head, the tears he'd been trying to hide, hanging precariously in his eyes, finally slipping, "I almost lost you yesterday." He declared softly, "Thought I was gonna lose all of you." Dean grated, reverently running the pads of his fingers over Sam's stomach, "Walking in there, seeing you laying in that tub, in all that blood…" He choked out, stopping to clear his throat and swallow, "I never wanna feel like that again." He sighed.

"And I just kept thinking, what if those were the last words I ever said to you? The last words they ever heard us say to each other." Dean shook his head, "I couldn't have lived with that." He breathed, brow wrinkling in denial, "So trust me, I know how stupid that fight was. And the enormity of all it's consequences." He muttered, knowing if he'd just listened to Sam, his brother wouldn't have been so distraught when he got in the shower and he probably wouldn't have fallen, "I take back every word I said. I know we were both just at the end of our ropes; I should've stayed and worked it out. I'm sorry."

Sam blinked the moisture out his eyes and nodded, "Me too." He whispered, pulling Dean down against his chest and wrapping his arms around his neck. He felt Dean settle against him, turn his face into his neck. He felt his little exhaled puffs of air brush against his throat, his nose draw patterns into his skin and his lips press forward over his pulse.

"I love you so Goddamn much Dean." Sam groaned quietly over his brother's shoulder, holding him tighter before tucking his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the sweet scent that showered him in contentment and ease and protection.

"Thank you." He whispered, for too many reasons to voice.


	21. Steeling the Mask

I really haven't read this, sorry. I should, but I just wanna hear from you guys again and its four am and it's at a place where I think I can stop so I just want it up. I know I went on somewhat of a hiatus, I'm sorry. Midterms and what not, life's a bitch. Anyway I hope this isn't so rancid it doesn't even fit with the rest of the story..if I had a beta I think this would be the version I'd send them but as it is, I'm too lazy to proofread. So let me know how it goes…

I'm nervous. Feel like I'm gonna get a lot of "ya, probably shoulda proofread it…"'s for reviews..haha ohhhh well.

Love you guys anyway

Xx

"Knock, knock." Meyer called quietly from outside the panic room door, rousing Sam and Dean from their still entwined position on the bed. Dean lifted off of his brother and wiped his eyes dry, slipping off of Sam until he was up against his back instead of laying over him.

"Meyer," Dean greeted amicably, nodding as the doctor stepped inside.

"Afternoon boys," He returned coming up next to the bed, "Glad to see you both awake. How're you feelin' Sam?"

Sam shrugged, "Okay I guess, head's still pounding a little but…_they're_ alright," He said glancing down at his belly, rubbing it over the sheet, "so I'm good."

Meyer smiled down at his young patient, nodding, "Yeah couldn't be more relieved the boys are okay," His grin grew before it faded, "But as for the head, I'm gonna keep you hooked up to these for a little longer," Meyer gestured to the IV stand still connected to his arm, "Keep the swelling down and the pain manageable. You should stay in bed for the day anyway." The doctor advised kindly, patting Sam's shoulder.

Sam put up no fight to the request, nodding to his friend in full agreement, "Yeah I'm still pretty wiped, won't be a problem."

"Good," Meyer nodded, "I'd like it if we could do a quick sonogram, make sure everyone's still doing alright in there. Haven't had any severe cramping or pains since the contractions stopped, correct?" The doctor asked as he rolled over the machine and took a seat on his stool. Dean slowly maneuvered out of bed so Sam could roll onto his back.

"No nothing note worthy, you said it was normal to be a little sore." He shrugged as Dean helped him resituate, "I feel okay." Sam answered as the doctor applied the cold gel to his skin.

Meyer nodded in approval, "Okay good, as long as you keep relaxing I think everyone will be just fine." He said as he began his familiar circling over Sam's rounded stomach.

Soon the dual heartbeats were thudding through the room and the white and gray outlines of their babies were filling the screen. All three of the men smiled upon seeing the children; Meyer continued roaming for any issues that may have resulted from the early labor. Sam and Dean waited anxiously for his report.

"Alright guys, looks like everything turned out okay. Boys look healthy, everything looks to be settling down just fine." Meyer said, cleaning off his patient, "And now that the boys are big enough to see pretty clearly," The doctor paused bending down as he threw away the gauze and gloves and pressed a few buttons on the machine, "We'll go ahead and get you a picture."

The boys each broke out into irrepressible grins, "Really?" Sam asked sitting himself up on the bed to receive the image.

"Yeah," Meyer agreed, picking up a crisp piece of photo paper and turning it over, "How's that?" He asked handing it over to Sam.

Sam breathed a laugh, Dean leaning over to join him as they studied the hard proof of their babies' health and existence in his hands. "Wow," Dean sighed laying his hand over one of Sam's to tilt the picture towards him, "Look at those handsome devils." He mumbled around an earsplitting grin, "Fuckin' perfect."

Sam chuckled again, shaking his head at his brother's antics, "They really are. Thank you Meyer." He gratified wholeheartedly, looking up to the doctor.

"Not a problem. Take it easy Sam," The doctor stressed, "I'll let you get some rest. Be back in a couple hours to check on ya." Meyer said before leaving the boys.

Sam sighed relaxing back into the bed, still gazing down at the photo in his hands: their babies curled up close, the profile of their faces clearly visible against the dark background; even as their bodies faded in and out at places they could see their button noses and the curve of their chins and foreheads. It was silent for almost a minute as they both studied the picture reverently, the quiet only breaking when Sam voiced his now worried thoughts.

"What're we gonna do about Caleb?" Sam asked, his voice quiet and timid as he continued staring down at the picture, his hands beginning to shake discreetly.

"Sammy don't start stressin' over that again." Dean lightly chided, turning his head to press his lips to Sam's temple, "I'm gonna go up and talk to him now." He reassured bringing his head back to down to look into Sam's eyes, "No matter what he says or thinks – he's not getting anywhere near you guys, understand? I don't care what he tries, I'm gonna make sure you're safe. Trust me."

Sam nodded, releasing a pent-up sigh and putting all his faith into his brother's words, "Okay. I do. And I mean, he's hurt, how much damage can he really do right?"

Dean nodded, his lips a tight smile, "Right." He agreed, fully aware of the transparency of that reassurance. Caleb was a hunter, if he wanted to hurt them and believed he had just cause to do it, he would be relentless in his efforts. They both silently prayed it didn't come to that.

"Just stay here and try to catch a few more hours of shut eye, I'll be back after we're done." Dean said softly, getting out of his chair before stooping to peck Sam on the forehead.

"Yeah, I'll try." Sam returned, watching Dean's retreated form before he turned at the doorway.

"Sleep." Dean commanded once more with a light smile and a pointed look before shutting the door behind him.

He made his way up the flight of stairs to the main level and nearly bulldozed over Bobby the minute he opened the door at the top. "Whoa, hey Bobby, my bad." Dean said stepping through the doorway and out of the old man's way.

"No, no, you're fine boy. I was just on my way down to check on you two. Sam doin' okay?" Bobby asked, turning to Dean with masked worry in his tired eyes.

"Yeah, we both just got up a half hour ago maybe, Meyer checked him and the kids out, everything seems okay. He's sleeping again now." Dean explained and Bobby nodded.

"Good." Bobby breathed, "I'm real glad things turned out alright."

"Yeah, you have no idea." Dean shook his head, "Me too. Hey, and, thanks for everything last night Bobby. You really, kept me together when was…kinda," Dean gestured vaguely with his hands, "losing it." He laughed ruefully, "Don't think I woulda been able to…" Dean started before quickly deciding he was not in the mood for a heart to heart with his grizzly old friend, "Well, anyway. Just thanks."

Bobby's thick whiskers twitched up as he cracked a crooked smile at Dean and nodded once in a gesture of amused and understanding acceptance.

It didn't take long for Dean to carry on to another, more pressing subject after that, one he knew it was rattling around in everyone's mind anyway. "So…what's Caleb been doin' all night?" He asked, his voice tight and edgy, riding over restrained anger.

Bobby stiffened at the question, "I muscled him upstairs after he came down, wasn't all that difficult, man was in shock and still weak, so I got him into bed and sedated him. After you boys fell asleep Meyer hooked him back up to the IV. He's been keeping him under since. Waiting for things to settle down before figuring out what to do."

Dean sighed and nodded, "Alright. Well things are settled, I'm ready to see him now."

"Dean…" Bobby hedged, his voice uncertain, "The man's still a hunter, and an old friend. And he's hurt pretty bad, you sure you got your head on straight enough to just, _talk_ to him? If things get out of hand I'll be right there to back you up but until he's actually done something wrong…" Bobby shrugged.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I'm not gonna jump the guy while he can't move, not unless he gives me reason - then, I'm not promising anything. But until then, I promise, we'll just talk."

Bobby tilted his head and grunted in consent, "I'll be listenin' out for trouble, ya hear? First sign of it and I'm comin' in."

"Understood. Where's Meyer?"

"In his room I'm guessing." Bobby said gesturing toward the stairs before turning around and starting toward the kitchen, "I'm getting started on lunch."

"Thanks Bobby, I'll be down when I'm done to help."

Dean headed straight toward the staircase, climbing it quickly before landing in front of the doctor's room and rapping his knuckles against the closed door.

Dean heard Meyer's voice speaking to someone as he approached the door and swung it open; the doctor motioned for Dean to wait, holding a finger up.

"Okay honey," Dean watched Meyer say into the cell phone pressed up against his ear, "Yeah I know…but Dean just walked in so let me call you back in a few minutes." Dean ducked his head feeling uncomfortable kicking the man off his phone, "Rachel you have to stop worrying sweetheart, I'll be down as soon as I can, I promise."

Dean's head snapped back up when he heard that, his attention returning to the conversation when he realized it was Meyer's daughter on the other end. And the guilt began slithering through him just as quickly when he heard the man pleading with his daughter to understand why he couldn't go home.

"I know it's been a long time but I told you when you left that I'd have work here for a few months at least, I'm sorry-"

Meyer stopped and Dean listened to the muffled voice on the other line cut him off, "Christmas?" The doctor asked quietly rubbing his hand against his temple, "I – well…sweetheart, you know I'll do my best to be there it's just-"

She cut him off again and Dean felt a hundred times worse, realizing Sam would be around eight months during Christmas, if he even carried them till then – he might have them right _on_ Christmas for all they knew.

"Yes I know, thank you for trying to understand. Okay. Okay honey. Yeah take care-" And the dial tone sounded.

Meyer pulled the phone away from his ear slowly before looking at the screen, his face contorted with regret and dejection before he flipped it shut and stuffed it into his jeans. He turned halfway around and seemed to spot Dean lingering awkwardly at the doorway before lifting his brow in surprise and spinning to face him.

"Dean," Meyer said as if he'd just remembered he'd left him there, "So sorry about that. I uh, well," He stumbled waving his hand back toward the room, "Anyway, what can I do for ya?"

"Meyer…are we, causing problems for you at home?" Dean asked unable to ignore the witnessed conversation, "I had no idea Rachel was gettin' on you about it. If you need a couple days you can go. We're not keeping you prisoner here, or I mean, we're not trying to."

Meyer smiled, shaking his head, "It's not any of yours' fault, I've been meaning to see her…we're, all we've got left so we try and visit a few times a month, it's why she was so upset. It's just, things have been a little hectic around here, you know? And this is my job; it's just like how hunters can't leave a case unfinished, because people could die. It's the same for me and she knows that. So it's fine Dean, don't worry about it."

Dean was reluctant to let it go at that but then a low moan sounded from the end of the hall – from Sam and Dean's room. Meyer sighed, "Looks like he's waking up. I lowered his dosage a few hours ago, he'll be weak but mostly coherent. I was gonna try talking to him, to see where he stood with everything but, if you wanna…" Meyer gestured toward the room.

"Actually that's exactly what I came up here to ask you to do. Thanks Meyer, I've been wantin' to talk to him all night." Dean said patting the doctor's shoulder before turning down the hall.

Dean slowly pushed open the door and stepped in – it felt like years since Sam and him had shared one of these beds, even if it had only been one night. He gave an instinctual cursory glance around the room before his eyes landed on Caleb's figure.

"Caleb." Dean called sternly as he took a few steps into the room. He watched as the hunter rolled his head before his eyelids lifted in a flutter. "Ya with me?" He asked standing by the bed and looking down at the frail, still beat to hell man below him.

"Dean?" Caleb croaked, scrunching his brow as the older Winchester pulled up a chair and sat.

"Yeah it's me, here to talk to you about last night." Dean said, wasting no time beating around the bush, "You remember last night?"

Caleb squinted at him for a second before his eyes shot a little wider and he took in a slow breath, "Sam." He breathed, "His stomach…he looked…" Caleb huffed with much effort, unable to finish as he searched for the right words.

"Ya I know what you saw," Dean snapped, stopping him from continuing, "And you know…I could come up with some bullshit story to explain it away, or at least I could try but, knowing you…you wouldn't stop or leave us alone until you figured it out on your own. We all know how relentless you can be when you set your mind to something." He bit out accusatorily, Caleb stared at him dumbfounded.

Dean met his eyes defiantly, studying the man with something close to incredulity, "God damn you really shoved your way into our lives didn't you. Made sure you got yourself smack dab in the center of everything…and it just had to be now." Dean shook his head talking mostly to himself as he leaned forward, sighing, "For your sake, I really wish you hadn't. Cause man, if you can't handle what I'm gonna tell you, what your _forcing_ me to tell you…I won't be held responsible for what I do. There are no boundaries when it comes to protecting my family. You understand me Caleb?"

"What're you talking about?" Caleb's brow scrunched over his glassy eyes, "Protecting your family from what?" He asked trying to put some volume in his voice. "What's wrong with Sam, what did that to him?"

Dean paused chewing on the inside of his cheek, his eyes hard and his body tense, ready for a fight even if there was none coming.

"Dean, I'm a hunter, whatever's happening with your brother…I can help-"

"Listen to me Caleb," Dean started, voice cold and low as he leaned forward onto his knees, "What I'm about to tell you, it has nothing to do with you and nothing to do with the supernatural. So forget any ideas of getting involved – in any way. Your version of helping, it'll more than likely get you killed, so stay out of it."

"Killed by what Dean? I've handled my fair share of monsters, I'm telling you, I can-"

"By _me_, Caleb." Dean interrupted harshly, "Chances are your not gonna want to accept what I tell you. It's crazy, aright? I'm warning you now, it'll sound insane, even to a hunter." He paused, his nostrils flaring as he took in a few measured breaths, "But if I get even the slightest hint that your not with us on this, like I said, I won't be held responsible for what I do."

Caleb looked more confused with every word Dean said, but he seemed to listen intently anyway and although it took him a moment of processing, nodded once Dean finished.

"Alright." Dean returned, swallowing hard before meeting Caleb's inquisitive gaze once more, "First off, despite what it looked like last night, you should know there's nothing…_wrong_ with my brother. He's healthy I mean - for the most part. Last night we had a little scare but everything's okay now..." Dean said as if reassuring himself of the fact, "So I swear to God Caleb if you do anything to-"

"I get it Dean, I'll be dead 'for I hit the floor. Just tell me. I'm chained to the frickin' bed…what am I gonna do?" Caleb asked interrupting the older Winchester before he could finish his threat.

Dean seemed to back down at that, sighing and slumping down to rest on his knees again, "Alright, about six month ago we were…jumped, by a couple _humans_. Nothing they did was supernatural, like I said. They were basically, just, experimenting on humans."

"Experimenting?" Caleb exclaimed trying to sit up in bed, "Dean what'd they-"

"They were experimenting with fertility Caleb." A voice sounded behind them, surprising both men as they turned around to face Meyer stepping into the room. The doctor's eyes swept over to Dean's for a brief moment, trying to determine if it was alright that he'd interrupted.

Dean nodded, sighing in relief that he wouldn't have to get into this part himself. It would be easier to believe coming from a doctor anyway.

"Fertility?" Caleb breathed, his head obviously becoming clearer with every passing minute.

Meyer nodded, "Yes. They were trying to make it possible for men to…well, to carry children." The doctor revealed pointedly, his brows raising with intention.

"Wait…you mean…?" Caleb said, unable to finish as his eyes dashed back and forth between the two men, "Sam, he's…"

Dean nodded imperceptibly while Meyer confirmed behind him, "He's pregnant."

Caleb couldn't seem to decide whether to think it was a joke and laugh or believe it and stare at them in stricken awe. So he kept doing a little of both.

"That's – not-"

"Possible?" Dean asked, "You know what you saw last night. What reason do we have to lie to you?" He asked rhetorically.

"How - how could they have done something like that? He doesn't…exactly, have the _equipment_ for that kinda thing if you know what I mean." Caleb stated with wide eyes, his voice rising comically high as he asked the question.

Dean looked up to Meyer, silently passing on the duty of answering that question to the doctor. Meyer looked at Dean, double taking as he realized he was supposed to take over again.

"Oh, well, it was a…complicated process. Not something I'll get into for the sake of Sam's privacy, but just know, they did it. And they were successful – thankfully, as the other subjects didn't fair so well. None of them had made it through the procedure before Sam."

Caleb stared with unmasked skepticism and outraged disbelief, "They all died? Where's this bastard now?"

"We're not sure," Dean piped up again, "We were kept in what we could only guess was the guy's house - in Akron, Michigan. We got out, knocked him unconscious and ran. I was worried about Sam after what they did so I just booked it. Met up with Bobby soon as we could and then called him." Dean explained jabbing his thumb up at the doctor standing beside him.

Caleb still wore the same apprehensive look on his face as he tried to absorb that information, "Well I would say you guys are crazy but…I don't believe either 'a you are creative enough to come up with that kinda story on your own. And, like you said, you don't have reason to lie to me, right?"

Dean shook his head, "If we wanted to lie we would've come up with something to cover _this_ up. But, after crashing our party last night, we didn't have much of a choice but to tell you the truth."

Caleb looked down and shook his head, "This is crazy. I mean you realize…"

"Yes we realize." Dean nodded impatiently, standing, "You can think it's crazy all you want." He shrugged, "As long as you don't think it's wrong, or, unnatural or something – you're not getting any ideas to try and _fix_ the situation…then I could care less."

"Who's the mom?" Caleb asked stopping Dean from leaving, "I mean, this whole thing shouldn't be possible…but even if it is, there always has to be two parents."

"No actually," Meyer chimed in, "That was the real discovery. The doctor made artificial eggs to implant in his patients. Don't even try to ask me how, if he even did, because _that_ seriously should not be possible, even in this scenario. And I mean I have no proof, so I'm not totally sure, but that's what he told Dean."

"So if that's true, then it's just Sam's genes that are making up this kid or what?" Caleb asked still trying to work out the kinks of impossibilty in his head.

Thick silence blanketed the room as Meyer and Dean exchanged glances, wondering if they should be truthful with the whole of this answer too.

"Dean let's talk for a minute." Meyer said giving Caleb a pointed glance, "We'll be right back. Don't try anything." He said as he and Dean edged toward the door; Caleb just jangled the cuffs on his wrists as indication that he would stay put and the two men closed the door behind them.

"Well he seems to be taking things pretty well so far, I'm not getting any 'hunter on a new case' vibes from him. What do you think?" Meyer asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Dean shrugged, reluctant to put his trust in anyone new to the situation. "I don't know, yeah I guess he's taking it alright…but still. He's an outsider and a hunter and I can't trust him just because he's staying relatively calm."

Meyer nodded, "Alright, so what do you want to do?"

Dean hung his head, sighing deeply, "I don't know." He muttered, "It'd be nice if I knew I _could_ trust him. Just to have someone else who knew…one less person to spin a lie for you know?" He shrugged before shaking his head. "But I can't just take that risk, not when I don't know how he'll react."

"Well you never know, he might turn out to be more open minded then you think." Meyer offered quietly, pausing before continuing on with another thought, "But regardless of whether or not we tell him the rest, what are you planning on doing with him once he knows everything? I mean, you keep saying you can't trust him, does that mean you want to keep him here until you can or what?"

Dean turned to look at the doctor, hands on his hips as he surfaced from deep thoughts, "He's not going anywhere until I'm a hundred percent sure he won't open his trap to anyone and he won't try coming after Sam or our kids later."

"And how can you ever be one hundred percent sure Dean? We can't keep him here forever. And if you do plan on keeping him here and not telling him about…you two…then you'll have to hide your relationship when he's around. We all will."

"I don't care Meyer," Dean hissed under his breath, quickly growing frustrated with the growing obstacles. He rapidly ran out of steam though as he blew out a haggard breath, "I'm just trying to keep him safe. I don't know how else to do that. If we have to adjust our lives a little, then we'll do it." Dean finalized, lifting his head to look at the doctor once more, "Right?"

Meyer gave a bone-deep sigh and tilted his head before nodding, "Of course. But I still think your being a little rash, and pessimistic."

"I'm looking out for my brother," Dean stated calmly, "Kid's a magnet for trouble, you learn the hard way to be overcautious." He shrugged before heading back toward his bedroom.

Meyer's hand caught him by the shoulder before he could get very far, "Okay," The doctor surrendered, his tone softer now as Dean spun to face him, "So we won't tell him that those are your kids too or that you two are together." Meyer said and Dean smiled imperceptibly at the way he flew over the words so nonchalantly, "But let me take care of talking to him. You should really eat something…and shower." Meyer's brow pinched up as his demeanor changed from loving sympathy to mild disgust, "You smell, and look, for that matter, awful."

Dean huffed, "I knew there was a reason we kept you around." He deadpanned before nodding and walking past him toward the stairs, "Okay, I will. Thank you Meyer. Find me when your done, tell me how it went?"

Meyer nodded with a soft smile, "Of course Dean though I'm sure it'll go fine."

Dean returned the nod before heading down the stairs and straight into the kitchen. His stomach had been rumbling since he woke up, having missed dinner last night.

"Dean." Bobby greeted, stirring something sizzling in a frying pan over the stove, "How'd it go? Didn't hear any screamin' or crashing so I figure he took it alright."

The older boy sighed as he fell down into one of the kitchen chairs, "Yeah, he took it as well as I could've hoped really. For some reason that just makes me even more…nervous." Dean's cheeks puffed out as he released a quiet breath before lightly shaking out his shoulders and straightening up, "That's irrational I know, I have no reason not to take him for his word but, with Sam you know, I can't let my guard down for anything. There's no room for error with that kid and no such thing as too cautious. I can't take any chances."

Bobby looked at Dean over his shoulder and nodded understandingly, "Don't expect anything less from ya son. But try not to stress yourself out over it until there's something worth stressin' over. For now, you've got Meyer and me both backing you up; you're not the only one watchin' out for him. He'll be alright."

"Yeah," Dean cracked a lax smile, "Thanks for that Bobby." He listened to the soft popping in the skillet and watched his oldest friend gracelessly cook their lunch before standing and offering his help.

"Nah boy sit down," Bobby replied waving him off, "It's done anyway." He said as he shook the sausages into the spaghetti sauce and began stirring them in. Dean chuckled and shrugged, settling for gathering the plates and silverware instead.

He had just pulled out the plates and was beginning to sort the silverware when his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and a dramatically panicked gasp slipped through his lips, "Shit." He hissed and Bobby immediately dropped his pot back to the stove, spinning to grab Dean's shoulder.

"Dean? What is it boy?" He asked, urgency in his eyes as he shook him gently.

"Work!" He exclaimed, yanking himself from Bobby's grip, "Shit, shit I totally forgot to call." He said as he twirled around in search of the closest phone, "Fuck, fuck, fuck I can't lose this job, I can't-"

"Dean," Bobby interrupted hastily after shaking off the initial shock of Dean's panic, "I called them already! Jesus, you scared the hell outta me." He said, his chest deflating as he let out a deep sigh, "Thought there was something wrong with you! I called them, calm the hell down."

"What?" Dean breathed incredulously, his face confused as he stopped rushing around, "You called in for me?"

"Well I knew you worked today so yeah, I called last night to let 'em know there was an emergency and you wouldn't be able to make it in." Bobby relayed as he brought the pot of sauce over to the table, setting it down with a shake of his head. "This job ain't as important as my corroded ol' heart Dean so sit down and don't scare me like that again." He ordered with a gruff chuckle before making a round trip to fetch the pasta as well.

"Wow, God thank you Bobby." Dean breathed shaking out the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, "What'd they say? Were they mad? Who'd you talk to?" He fired off a moment later, going back for the plates and silverware.

"I called Jeff's cell, store was closed by the time I thought to call. I wasn't gonna spare any details, just cause I wasn't sure what story you were runnin' with yet, but he guessed it had something to do with the kids without me sayin' a word. So I went with it and told him you were havin' some, early labor troubles," He said with a vague wave of his hand, "and he told me to tell you to take as much time as you needed. Said to call him when you could." Bobby shot off rhythmically, his answer certain and calm, trying to reassure the obviously worried older brother that his job was not at stake.

"Okay," Dean breathed, sitting down in front of an empty plate, "Okay," He repeated, "Thank you Bobby. You saved my ass."

"Dean, people _will_ give you a break from time to time," Bobby said, his brow creasing over his shaded eyes in empathetic concern, "I know your not used to havin' a margin for mistakes but in the real world, people _can_ be understanding if you give them a chance." He said, as if the idea was completely foreign to the boy. And in some ways, it really was.

Dean laughed softly, dishing himself up, "Yeah I know." He said, shrugging as if it was obvious. Silence engulfed them as their attention shifted to their food and they took the calm moment to slowly recuperate from the hellish stress of the past night and morning.

Minutes later, footsteps could be heard on the squeaking stairs as Meyer made his way to the kitchen.

"Smells great in here." The doctor said as he sat down at the table and grabbed an empty plate.

"It is great." Dean complimented as he nodded, glancing at Bobby in gratitude for the meal. "So how'd it go with Caleb?"

The doctor shrugged, "Same as before, in a little denial but still trying to understand. I told him that Sam's the single parent contributing real genes to the kids as far as we know, but that what we know is really all theory at this point. And I didn't mention anything of you two. Just as you asked." Meyer answered as he plopped down a spoonful of pasta and sauce onto his plate.

"Wait you didn't tell him that you're the other parent?" Bobby interjected setting his fork down as he leaned forward against the table.

Dean shook his head, "He's not ready to hear that. We're already pushing it telling him what he does know, I don't need an unpredictable hunter looking at us as anymore of freaks than he already thinks we are. I still don't trust him and as of now, he's on a need to know basis."

Bobby sighed but begrudgingly agreed a moment later anyway, resigning back to his food.

"What, you think that's a bad idea?" Dean asked watching his friend's reaction.

"Not necessarily, just means if he's gonna be around, which I'm sure he is until you feel you can trust him to let him go, then your gonna have to be careful."

Meyer nodded as Bobby repeated his same words from earlier, "I know that." Dean replied surely, "It's not a big deal. He's taken it well so far, if he keeps it up I guess we won't have to worry about him long and he can go once he's healed up."

"Well, as long as you're sure, you know we'll back you up." Bobby shrugged, his attention still on his food as he scooped up a forkful of pasta and shoved it between his lips.

"Yeah Bobby, I know. I really can't thank either of you enough for that." He nodded once awkwardly in thanks before growing a little emotionally uncomfortable and loading up another plate for his brother.

"Lunch is great Bobby, thanks again. But I'm sure Sam's hungry by now, I'm gonna go check on him, see if he's up to eating yet."

Meyer and Bobby nodded in agreement and waved him off, "Sounds good, tell him I'll be down to check him over in an hour or so." The doctor said before turning back around toward his lunch.

Dean nodded and headed toward the basement staircase, taking each step quickly before reaching the panic room door and shoving it open on it's creaking hinges, hoping he didn't wake Sam if he happened to still be sleeping.

He poked his head over the edge of the door as he stepped in and watched Sam sit up in bed a little to greet his visitor, "Dean," He breathed in concealed relief and subtle joy.

"Heya Sammy," Dean drawled coming the rest of the way into the room, "Didn't wake ya up did I?" He asked as he set the plate down on the makeshift nightstand Bobby had put at Sam's bedside the night before.

Sam shook his head, smiling again a little before he caught Dean by the back of the neck and pulled him into his arms, crashing him down onto the bed beside him.

"Omph," Dean grunted as his body collided onto the firm mattress and he was crushed to Sam's side. He gradually got his bearings and shifted until he could wrap his arms around his brother in return, "Yeah it's good to see you too Sammy," Dean chuckled uneasily, "Everything okay?" He asked quietly as his fingers began dragging up and down the length of his brother's back.

Sam nodded into Dean's neck before pulling back and letting out a small, watery laugh. "Yeah," He croaked softly, "Just a dream. I'm glad you're here now."

Dean's brow crunched in confusion, "What dream?" He pressed not willing to let it rest that easy.

Sam shook his head, "It was stupid, basically just a replay of last night but, you know, different ending. Just a nightmare Dean, it's okay." Sam ensured even as his voice quivered and his hands shook.

"Sam come on," Dean continued prodding gently.

"It's really not a big deal Dean it just felt real is all." He said trying to lighten his voice to match his words but Dean just continued his tender but pressing stare, urging him to go on. Sam looked down with a short huff, "Alright well, we had that fight, but after you left me. And then I fell and…we lost them." He explained as quickly as could, his voice low and soft as he shrugged and shook his head, "I know it wasn't real Dean, I'm okay."

Dean's mossy eyes flicked back and forth between Sam's, his gaze intense with sympathy and fierce protection, "I'm sorry." He grated bringing his hand up to cup Sam's cheek, his thumb brushing over the cut of his cheek bone in a small gesture of empathetic love. "Everything turned out alright though," He reassured despite Sam's repeated declaration that he was okay and knew it hadn't been real.

He leaned forward, enclosing Sam's pliant mouth with his own and covering the jut of his lower lip between his, sucking gently to run his tongue soothingly over the contours of the smooth flesh. "Everything's okay." He whispered in between languid kisses, slowly calming the erratic beat of his brother's heart pumping up into the hand lying over his chest. Sam nodded and kissed him harder, tightening the grip he had on the back of Dean's neck as he shoved his tongue forward between his brother's unsuspecting lips.

Dean reacted almost instantly to the new ferocity of the kiss, the new desperation and need and he felt a rush of anxious desire flood through his groin, eliciting a small groan from the depths of his chest. Sam swallowed the noise down hungrily, his teeth pulling Dean's bottom lips from his teeth before sucking it avidly between his. Dean hissed and sighed at the pain/pleasure sensation as it coursed through him, adding to the slow growing arousal filling his jeans.

"Sam," He breathed, half pulling away and half crowding in closer, "Meyer's coming to check on you soon." Dean tried to warn, "And you're supposed to be resting."

Sam sighed, pulling back and resting against his pillows, his palm pressing into the hardened length between his legs, "I need you," He returned softly, disregarding the forewarning and choking off into a breathy moan as his hips canted up into his hand.

And Dean never did learn how to deny Sam when he needed. It'd always been that way.

"Okay Sammy," Dean agreed the net second, plunging forward into his mouth again, "But we gotta make it quick." He whispered between grazing pecks and soft swipes of their tongues.

Sam nodded wholeheartedly, "It's okay, just need to feel you." He said, squeezing Dean's bicep as his hand moved to replace Sam's, "Don't ever leave Dean, please." He begged so quietly Dean almost missed it, "You can't leave me." Sam continued a beat later and Dean dipped his head down to cover his brother's post-nightmare babbling lips.

"You know I can't baby," He assured as he broke away, increasing the pace of his hand over Sam's cock before gently tugging his brother's sweatpants down and gripping his hot, damp flesh in his fist, "Would never be able to leave you." He promised tugging ruthlessly to enforce his point. Sam cried out before clamping down on his bottom lip, his brow pulling up in the middle as he concentrated on staying quiet through the ambush of pleasure.

Dean kept his brutally fast pace and tight grip as he slid down the length of Sam's body, only stopping once his mouth hovered over his brother's weeping length, "So shut up and relax, I'm not going anywhere." He swore, making sure his brother didn't get a chance to respond before his watering mouth was covering the head of his prick and descending lower, his tongue dancing erotically against the ridged veins as he continued swallowing him down.

"Oh fuck Dean," Sam moaned trying his best not to make noise though he grunted and rocked with every sucking pull his brother tortured him with. Dean kept his bobbing pace steady and fast, eager to feel his brother flood his mouth. He palmed his own crotch to relieve a little pressure, grumbling at the feel and then again at the way the vibrations made his brother's whole body roll up into him.

Sam only lasted another few seconds before he was shooting down his brother's throat, bucking his hips gently and stifling his soft cries into the crook of his arm as he sifted through every crest of his high. Dean sucked him gently until Sam whimpered from overstimulation and he pulled back, swallowing once more before crawling up the bed to lie next to his brother.

Dean gave him a few seconds to recover before helping him pull up his sweats, satisfied with the lack of mess or scent of sex in the room, knowing they were descent for when Meyer came in. He sighed contently and settled next to his brother, ignoring the throbbing between his legs as he threw a protective arm over Sam and drew him into his chest.

"You okay now Sammy?" Dean questioned gently, his fingers carding through the base curls of Sam's locks, careful to avoid the patched up stitches on the back of his head. Sam nodded minutely before sighing, "Never better." He mumbled sleepily kissing the skin of Dean's chest against his lips.

Dean breathed out a quiet laugh at the sound of his brother's slurred words and kissed his forehead back before settling into the quiet for a moment, just breathing in his brother and letting his muscles unwind.

Sam pulled back a few seconds later and peered up at Dean with suddenly alert eyes, "Did you talk to Caleb?" He asked, the drowsy slight now gone from his words.

Dean nodded calmly and smiled down at his brother softly, "I told him. He took it really well all things considered." He paused, "I left out that I'm the other father though, and that we're together…didn't want to push him. Hope that's alright with you."

Sam blinked up at him, "He's really alright? Not like, wanting to come after me or anything?" He questioned hesitantly, the worried clouds in his eyes slowly dissipating.

"Yeah, he's okay. I still don't trust him, but so far he's given me no reason to believe he's not all right with this." Dean secured with a light shrug, brushing bangs out of Sam's eyelashes.

"Wow, that's…" Sam started, slowly tossing his head back and forth, "That takes a lot of stress off." He exhaled, chuckling lightly in relief.

"Yeah for sure," Dean agreed almost happily, simply glad to see Sam smiling again.

It was soundless again as Dean let Sam revel in the good news.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean looked down at his brother.

"Why did you have to get a ride home yesterday?" Sam asked, the slight intimidation at bringing up the subject that had started their fight evident in the shake of his voice.

Dean blinked and cracked a half-smile, "That seems like a life-time ago." He shook his head, "I almost forgot. Someone swiped the battery." He stated matter-of-factly, his lips pressing together in disappointment, reminded of the less-than-perfect state of his baby.

"What?" Sam exclaimed immediately trying to sit up straighter in Dean's grasp and wincing as the movement jostled his sore body.

"Easy," Dean calmed, "It's just a battery, easy replacement."

"Yeah but Dean," Sam protested shaking his head in bewilderment, "That car 's like your wife, God I can only imagine how pissed you were. And then to come home to me right after... I'm really sorry."

"Hey, we've been over this," Dean reminded, "No more apologies, it's over. Everyone's forgiven and the car will be fine."

Sam gave a rueful huff of laughter, "Yeah okay," He agreed reluctantly even as the lines of sadness and regret remained around his eyes, "God that fight really was stupid."

Dean smiled a little sadly in agreement, "You know, I told Jess I was gay." He blurted out a moment later, his eyes distant as he remembered back to the moment with a grin.

"You did?" Sam asked, his voice raising an octave with disbelief.

Dean laughed, the sound laced with incredulity too, "Yeah, it was just to get her to back off but yeah."

Sam laughed with him, "What'd she say?" He asked eagerly, still finding it hard to believe his brother had actually told a woman he was _gay_.

"She called me the straightest gay guy she'd ever met."

Sam snickered again, "I'm not surprised…" He said before letting his smile fade, "Do you consider yourself gay now or what?" Sam asked, his words growing quiet.

Dean contemplated that a moment, "Well, my immediate answer's no. But then again I have had your cock up my ass and down my throat…so there's that to consider." He said candidly, pretending to actually think it over.

Sam sputtered at his brother's candor before pointlessly looking around the room for eavesdropping ears that may have overheard, "Dean!" He reprimanded around a small laugh, hitting his brother on the chest.

"Relax Sammy, no one's here." Dean quelled rubbing over Sam's chest, "So what do you consider yourself?" He asked a moment later, turning around the question.

"I don't know," Sam hesitated, "Never really thought about it." He stopped, pondering over the question as his brows pulled together over his squinted eyes.

"I know I can still appreciate a girl and everything but, I'm gonna go with gay." Sam finally concluded, "Cause well, I'm pretty sure you're gonna be it for me," He shrugged, "I know you are. And, even though I'm most likely not gonna start checking other guys out all the sudden, like you said, our relationship is…pretty gay." He laughed before shrugging, "So I guess that's what it makes me. I'll learn to live with the new status." He joked lightly before looking up at Dean.

His brother was smiling down at him with a strikingly open display of affection, "You're gonna have to." He said softly, rubbing his thumb over Sam's cheek, "Cause I'm…72% sure you're it for me too Sammy." He confessed passionately, placing a hand over his heart as he looked deeply into his brother's eyes.

Sam quickly hit him in the shoulder, making sure to put some real force behind the punch, and Dean cracked, unable to contain his sniggering at the outrage on his brother's face. "Leave it to you man," Sam said around a repressed smile, "God damn." He puffed, trying not to laugh with him.

"Yeah well someone's gotta keep you in check," Dean teased, "People might actually start to think were gay." He whispered intently, widening his eyes in purpose.

"Shut up dude," Sam said still smiling as he shoved at him again.

"Ah it's okay Sammy," Dean consoled hugging him tighter to his chest, "If it means bein' with you I'll let people think whatever they want." He whispered, his tone subtly sobering as he rocked them gently, stroking his fingers over the growing bulge of Sam's belly and feebly through his hair.

"You're worth it."


	22. Waitin' on a Midnight Cigarette

I don't know, it's long maybe that will make up for the wait.

Xx

Seven days passed before Meyer deemed Sam healthy enough to get out of bed for more than the occasional trip to the bathroom. To say Sam was happy about the new status would be a serious understatement - no one and nothing could swipe the earsplitting grin off his face. Even as he laboriously clambered up the rickety flight of stairs from the basement, still weak and unsteady after his days restricted to the mattress, while Dean hovered overprotectively.

"Okay just take it slow Sammy, it's not a race." Dean quietly assured, eyes on Sam's feet and his own hands, securely gripping Sam's waist and under his belly as they slowly climbed the wooden steps.

"Dean, we go any slower and termites will eat through the boards 'for we make it to the top." Sam quipped, though the soft airy lilt to his words eliminated most of his right to judge their speed.

"Yeah, yeah, just focus on your feet Armstrong," Dean retorted, keeping his focus on Sam's sluggish progress.

"Tha's biking Dean." Sam slurred through his heavy breath.

"Whatever dude." He waved off dismissively.

Sam's breaths were quick and short but measured as he slowly got his aching muscles to focus and get him level on the ground floor. He let out a heavy sigh as he made the last step and looked around the house he felt he'd been estranged from for centuries. His legs were shaking and his head was lightly throbbing to the beat of his heart but still, nothing could quench his gratitude for finally being let out of bed again.

"Come on, let's sit and I can get some lunch going." Dean said, leading Sam's weak and faintly quaking body over to the kitchen table. Sam didn't even protest being waited on, too happy to argue with his brother about the overbearing care.

"Okay, but right after, _shower_. I friggin' smell dude." Sam said, shaking his head, "Too many days in a bed."

Dean chuckled, "Yeah alright," He agreed as he pulled out the ingredients for grilled cheese, "but a bath, no more showers." He added as a side note, his attention elsewhere as Sam's gaze lowered, his face falling almost indiscernibly before he nodded.

"Sammy," Dean warned, "Don't go doin' the whole, emo brooding thing again," He said waving his hand in Sam's general direction, "We've been over this. It wasn't your fault, let it go." He admonished as he slid a thin layer of butter over two slices of toast, waiting for the skillet to warm.

Sam sighed and looked back at his brother, shooting him a small smile before nodding, "Yeah," He agreed, "Don't worry, no more showers." He said with agreeable acceptance, his smile turning genuine as Dean grinned back.

"Just means some hot bath sex for us Sammy." Dean said, waggling his eyebrows as he slapped the greased slices of bread onto the pan.

Sam barked a laugh, "God Dean, that _would_ be the first thing you think of." He shook his head, thankful that both other occupants of the house had left to shop for groceries and other supplies after giving Sam the green light to leave his bed.

Dean shrugged, "Of course." He smirked, "Plus it's one of the only places I haven't done it – besides a plane and the Impala." He explained as if that made it perfectly logical. Sam laughed harder.

"You've never done it in the Impala?" Sam asked a moment later once his cackling died down, disbelief inflecting his voice. Dean looked at him over his shoulder, shook his head 'no' like it should've been obvious.

"'Course not Sam, that baby's the only home we got – that's _ours_ at least." He shrugged, "Wasn't about to taint somethin' like that with a mindless hook-up." Dean added absentmindedly.

Sam crooked a smile at his brother's back, watching him flip their sandwiches before he moved to grab a can of tomato soup. He huffed a soundless laugh and his smile grew to a full-blown beam – Dean was always surprising him.

Sam rushed them through lunch after that; ready for the promised bath awaiting them once they finished.

He tried to hurry them up the stairs too, but as Dean had control over their pace they still progressed like old women with bad hips.

Dean swallowed hard and tensed as they finally crossed the threshold of the small bathroom, just as he had every other time he'd been forced to enter since Sam had taken his infamous fall in the tub. The flashbacks were quick and shocking and left him queasy and aching for his brother.

He quickly moved into Sam's arms, trying to mask the desperation of his actions as he buried his face into Sam's shoulder and circled his hands over his back, as if trying to assure himself that every fiber was still intact.

Sam picked up on the reason for his brother's unease and returned the embrace without hesitation. His fingers spread over the back of Dean's head, playing with smooth strands of hair as he held his brother close. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like to walk in on what he did – to see his unconscious body sprawled in a puddle of blood. He cringed at the mental image.

Dean stepped away after a handful of haunting seconds and looked Sam hard in the eye, pressing forward roughly to connect their lips, his mouth demanding and possessive. Sam met him with matched enthusiasm and let Dean work out his aggression cloaking the echoes of old fear and pain.

As soon as they broke apart, Dean caught his breath leaning up against Sam's forehead and shook out his shoulders, offering him an indiscernible but reassuring, and grateful smile. The tension began dissipating from the room and Dean stooped to begin filling the tub, almost managing to forget the striking color of Sam's blood soaking the white tiles.

He shook off the old images and focused on adjusting the temperature before helping lower Sam in. "Is that warm enough?" Dean asked over the quiet splash of the running water, "Too hot, too cold?"

"It's perfect, now would you quit babyin' me and get your ass in here." Sam smiled up at him as he settled against the bottom, leaning up as far as his belly would let him to give his brother room.

Dean grinned and shook his head backing up, glad his little episode hadn't ruined the mood, "Don't gotta ask me twice." He slung his shirt up and over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor before wiggling gracelessly from his pants. Sam couldn't suppress the barely-escaped snicker as Dean crashed into the wall, losing his balance when the last of one pant leg wouldn't come lose from his ankle. "Shut up," He growled around a soft smile, flinging the freed pants to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Sam laughed not sorry at all, "It's just…your elegance, it stuns me sometimes." He continued laughing under his breath, "Come on," He waved Dean over and his brother complied, glaring all the way as he stepped over the ledge and into the steaming water behind Sam. He spread his legs and sat, wriggling around until he was settled comfortably at his brother's back. He wrapped his arms around Sam's chest as he helped him slide back, only stopping once their bodies were flush and propped up against the tub wall. Sam's skin suctioned itself against Dean's, the mop of his dark hair settling against the crook of his brother's shoulder.

Sam let out a deep sigh, relaxing into the mold of Dean's firm, warm body, his head lolling against his chest.

Dean's nose bumped lazily against Sam's temple, sparing a fleeting moment to breathe in the scent of his brother's skin, pure of soap and dirt and everything else that could alter its unique aroma. Something like the heady tang of baked bread and chopped wood and the faintest hint of pine, and for some reason he couldn't quite name, his heart flared up and clenched so tight in his chest, he almost couldn't breathe.

He never wanted to stop though; he thought he could probably get hard just breathing it in. He let his hands roam around to his brother's front, gliding carelessly across his wide, shaped chest and down to the completely opposing bulge of his softer, currently shifting belly.

"God I love feeling them move." Dean whispered into Sam's neck, letting his hands rest over their little fidgeting bodies, feeling their tiny limbs jabbing softly up into his palms.

"Yeah," Sam sighed before grunting quietly as one particularly rough kick pushed at his pelvis, "Me too…most of the time." He relented with an amused chuckle, rubbing over the sore spot.

Dean hummed in sympathy, "Their gettin' stronger huh?" He asked quietly, replacing Sam's hands with his own as he took over gently soothing the babies, trying to calm them down some.

Sam nodded, the languid movement tickling the skin at Dean's collarbone, "And bigger." He added, "Everyday I can tell."

Dean kissed Sam's still dry and sleep-tangled knots, "Bet you're getting anxious for them to get here. It's gotta be uncomfortable in there." He suggested softly, still musing over the soft, taut skin of Sam's belly.

Sam shrugged, "I'm actually, perfectly content with them staying in there as long as they possibly can." He confessed, whispering a laugh to cover his undercurrents of fear. About the birth, about being a parent, about having absolutely no idea what they were going to do with two tiny defenseless lives once they finally arrived.

Dean let out a small breath of empathy, guessing he knew all the things Sam was scared of. "We got Meyer Sammy, we'll get them out just fine. And after, we'll have all the supplies we need - I've already got a couple paychecks saved up so we can start shopping as soon as you're ready. We're gonna be fine."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Doesn't make me any less nervous though. For now, I'm just happy they're still safe in here," His hands moved over his stomach, "I can deal with a little back ache." He breathed as he relaxed into Dean again.

"You're backs hurting?" Dean perked up, leaning forward to try to meet Sam's eye.

Sam shrugged, "Well, a little. It's not a big deal Dean, hasn't even been going on that long." He calmed his brother, "Definitely could be worse." He paused, "Actually, it _will_ be worse. For now I'm fine, long as I get these baths with you." He sighed serenely, "I haven't been this comfortable in weeks." He sighed through a wisp of a smile, turning up under Dean's chin, pressing his dry lips to the square of his brother's jaw.

"You shoulda told me Sammy, you probably would've gotten a free message out of it. And we could've done this whole bath thing earlier." Dean lightly reprimanded moving his hands to Sam's back and beginning to rub the knotted muscles around his spine.

Sam moaned before he could respond with anything intelligible, melting under the steady kneading of Dean's hands and the encasing heat of the steaming bath water. The relief was palpable, so intense it morphed into real pleasure as the tension seeped from his muscles and lit every nerve with desire.

Sam continued his steady stream of appreciative groaning, encouraging his brother with soft keening sounds before he threw a careless hand up to wrap around the back of Dean's neck. He felt the lazy waves of reprieve turn into something sharper, stronger, slinking through his veins and into the pit of his stomach, heating his groin as his focus narrowed to the wide, strong grip of Dean's hands over his flesh.

"Fuck you're beautiful." Dean huffed inaudibly, ducking his head into the crook of Sam's neck and watching from hooded eyes as his brother's body slowly arched, awakening under his hands manipulation.

The bath only ended once the water had cooled around them and they were left gasping against each other's wet lips, shuddering violently in the remaining waves of the sloshing water and clinging with white knuckles to whatever they could hold on to. Bodies still connected, voices still crying out their last rushes of blinding pleasure, and muscles finally releasing their last remnants of strain as they collapsed against one another.

Dean took time regaining his strength before he finally summoned the energy to lift from Sam's lap, slowly pulling his body free with a low groan. Sam gasped as his cock slid free and Dean gradually got to his feet before him. He brushed a shaky hand down Sam's cheek before bending down to help his brother stand with him.

He slowly leaned over to pull the plug and drain the soiled bath water before flipping on the nozzle for the shower, making sure the temperature was right before letting any water hit Sam. He leaned forward into Sam's swollen lips, dragging his tongue across them before lazily slipping inside, tangling his hands in Sam's wet hair to keep him steady. "You alright?" He asked into the kiss, letting a palm drop lay flat against Sam's belly button.

Sam was still subtly catching his breath, panting against Dean as he helped them both stay standing under the soothing spray. He nodded though, because he was so much more than alright after that reunion he didn't think there were words.

Dean quirked a crooked smile, leaning in for one last kiss before he helped them through a quick shower. He made sure Sam's weak body was steady on the new sticky mat against the floor of the tub as he washed his back and shampooed his hair, letting him lean heavily against his chest as he tried to wake them up.

Sam shut off the water just as the heat began waning and they were finally clean, sated and smiling helplessly. Dean climbed out first before helping Sam; they took turns drying each other off, unable to keep their hands off one another for more than a few seconds at a time.

It was just as the boys were making their careful way down the stairs once more that Bobby and Meyer returned home, arms overflowing with plastic grocery bags and faces colored from the crisp wind they could hear blowing around the house.

"Whew!" Meyer called as Bobby kicked the door shut behind him, "Good to be outta that, it's crazy out there." He mumbled before spotting the brother's at the end of the stairs, "Oh hey boys." The doctor greeted brightly as Bobby nodded to them before heading into the kitchen, grunting with the weight of the bags.

"Hey guys, wow, you really stocked up." Dean noticed as he walked Sam to the couch, "There any more out in the hippie van?" He asked, smirking at Meyer's glare before Sam pulled his attention to him.

"Dean," Sam started, tugging on his brother's shirt as he sat down, "if you don't quit walking me around the house like your grandmother I'm gonna knock you out." He threatened without much heat, glancing at the hand Dean had wrapped around Sam's bicep.

Dean chuckled at the irritated flush in Sam's cheeks and the fire in his bright eyes before backing away and throwing his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay I'm sorry, didn't even realize I was doin' it."

"Exactly, it's like second nature to you, treatin' me like an invalid." Sam shook his head.

"Of course it is, you're my damsel Sammy, remember that." Dean teased, chuckling as he brushed his knuckles against Sam's chin before he could duck out of the way.

"Dean quit picking on your brother." The tired order sounded from the kitchen, "And yes boy, there's more in the hippie van." Bobby continued and the boys could hear the gruff chuckle of their old friend as the doctor mumbled something tetchy.

"Ain't they just adorable," Dean drawled to his brother, looking toward the direction of the noise.

"Heard that." Bobby answered over the crinkling sound of plastic bags being bundled up, "Get your ass out there and then come help us adorable old men unload your food ya idjit."

Dean's head tilted back on a quiet laugh as he sat up from the arm of the couch and disappeared through the front door.

"That boy I swear." Sam caught Bobby mutter before the sounds of a slow, sappy country song started drifting from the kitchen, "We'll see how he likes that," He heard Meyer chuckle as the volume was turned up and he began humming along.

Sam laughed with him from his spot on the couch before deciding to go help them unload the food, still listening to Meyer carry the sad tune. He pushed off the back of the couch and arched himself up until he was on his feet, hating that he had to use the back of the couch for support until he got his bearings and the blood flowed back into his head. He took a few deep breaths, hand supporting under his belly as he let the couple hard beats of his heart calm and the blinking dots in his vision clear.

Sam hated concussions, probably more than any other injury he'd sustained – they messed with everything and took forever to completely heal. Left him weak and dependent and for Sam Winchester, there was no worse combination.

He sighed and headed into the kitchen, smiling as brightly as he could manage as Bobby and Meyer looked up at the noise of his entry, hoping they wouldn't kick him out if he appeared healthy enough to help.

"Sam, how're you feeling?" Meyer stopped his humming and dropped what he was unloading to come to the youngest Winchester's side, "Do you need something? I thought you were resting on the couch."

_Resting_, like some gimpy old hag. Sam had to bite back the immediate snarky response that was itching to lash out at Meyer's babying words. He took a slow breath and looked at the doctor, "Just came to help." He responded, forcing his lips into the least fake smile he could accomplish, "Good song." He smirked, pointing to the radio, still blaring plucking guitars and southern drawls.

"I think you should try to stay off your feet Sam." Meyer admonished caringly, ignoring his fake compliment, "C'mon just for a few days." He led him to the dining room table and pulled out a chair, "Let's not push it, alright? How's your head feeling?"

Sam bit the inside of his cheek as he sat, staring darkly at the wall behind Meyer, "Fine."

Meyer sighed, "You probably wanna sock me one right about now." He shook his head, "I am sorry Sam but trust me when I say, I've never asked anything of you without your best interest in mind. I'm just trying to keep you guys healthy."

He thought over that for a moment.

"You don't make this any easier when you justify yourself." Sam snapped, still avoiding the doctor's sympathetic stare.

Meyer suppressed his chuckle, "I completely understand if you need to take your anger out on me."

Sam huffed and ducked his head, "Before I really do hit you, please go away. Go serenade your husband or something."

"Okay Sam." He answered calmly and returned to the kitchen just as Dean came in and dumped the rest of the bags onto the counter.

"Oh nice touch doc," Dean glared before nodding at the radio, "Will you shut that crap off?"

Meyer just smiled wide before putting his hands over his heart, closing his eyes, and pulling in a dramatic gasp as he joined in on the next song, "_She put him out, like the burning end of a midnight cigarette! She broke his heart, he spent his whole life trying to forget_..."

"Where's Sam?" Dean yelled over Meyer's sensationalized serenade.

"Here." Sam answered dully, just loud enough to hear over the doctor and Bobby's laughter at the man's performance. Dean moved around the old men, shooting them incredulous stares until he could peer through the double doorway between the dining room and kitchen.

"Why are you in the dark?" He asked flipping on the light.

"I was banned from the kitchen."

"Aw," Dean laughed quietly at the dejection on his brother's face before kneeling to be level with him, "'M sorry Sammy, need me to kick some ass for ya?"

"I'm perfectly capable of kicking some ass all on my own Dean." Sam responded automatically, still staring at the wall.

Dean pressed his lips together, desperately suppressing his smile. His brother looked too much like the two year old he raised pouting like that, and it was hard to take anything seriously with the crazy raucous going on behind him, especially as Meyer started to sing along with the woman's verse.

"…_Life is short, but this time it was bigger, than the strength to get up off her knees. We laid her next to him beneath the willow, while the angels sang a whiskey lullaby, la, la, la, la, la, la, la…_"

"I know Sammy." He nodded standing up and glancing behind him, seeing the doctor swaying through the kitchen as he put away the groceries. He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, "What do ya say we go watch TV or something. We can let the women do the cooking for us."

Sam cracked a tiny grin of satisfaction as Meyer shot a glare at Dean, "Sure. But not TV. Cards or something, I can't take any more TV."

Dean agreed easily and took them back to the living room, grabbing the deck on the way.

Thirty poker hands later, dinner was being set at the table, the radio was still humming soft country songs and the smell of ribs and rice was wafting in from the kitchen, drawing loud rumbles of hunger from each boys' stomach.

"Come on boys, let's eat." Bobby called as the dishes clanked down onto the table.

"Hell yes," Dean breathed helping Sam up from the couch.

"You guys start, I'll be right down." Meyer said holding a plate of dished up food in his hands as he started up the stairs.

Dean nodded as they sat down, glancing nervously toward Sam, knowing he'd realize who the plate was for.

"So, how is Caleb doing anyway?" Sam asked quietly, his face a calm front as he fiddled with his napkin, avoiding Dean and Bobby's eyes.

They hadn't talked much about the hunter still healing upstairs over the few days Sam had been bedridden but Dean knew, especially now that Sam was moving around the house again, the topic couldn't be avoided much longer.

Bobby came in with the last dish before he sat down with them, "Almost healed up now. Bones are set, stitches are comin' out." The old man nodded, considering, "He'll be able to get around without the meds soon I imagine. But we're plannin' on moving him downstairs tonight so you boys can have your room back."

Sam nodded, "Well, I'm glad he's okay." He replied vaguely, pausing before he spoke again, "He's not…like, changing his mind about…anything, right?"

Dean lay a hand on Sam's knee, "No Sammy, I've been talking to him everyday. If anything he's getting angrier about what those guys did to us. Who knows, he might even be some help when the time comes to hunt the bastards down."

Sam looked up at his brother, a quick flash of fear lighting up his eyes before he glanced away again, trying to focus on loading up his plate. He was relieved Caleb was still being relatively accepting, but the gratitude was quickly washed away at the mention of their impending quest for vengeance or justice or whatever the hell they were calling it.

If he was honest, it scared the hell out of him thinking of facing that psychotic doctor and his Igor sidekick again. When were they supposed to have time to do it anyway? Was Dean planning on having them go after the babies were born? Was he going to go before? They never really had finished that conversation, or at least come up with a plausible conclusion. The loose ends made him nervous.

"Sammy," Dean called softly, jiggling his brother's knee under the table, "Hey."

Sam roused himself from the deep thoughts and realized he was holding a bowl of mashed potatoes against his plate, having stopped in the middle of dishing up.

"Oh sorry." Sam's cheeks flushed and he quickly finished before passing them on.

"Stop stressing." Dean emphasized, "You know when the time comes to deal with them we're going to talk about it first, decide what's best together. And we have back up." Sam glanced up at Bobby who nodded in agreement, "I'm not lettin' them touch you again, you know that. You've got nothing to be scared of." Dean finished, his tone determined and his eyes soulful.

It was silent for a handful of heartbeats.

"Well, that was all very touching Deana, and I fully agree Sam, but I think I'd like to get on with this whole _food_ thing now without all the hand holdin'." Bobby grouched, shooting a quick wink at Sam who smiled at his old friend.

"Bite me old man." Dean shot back quickly before digging into his plate.

Meyer skipped down the last few stairs then and rushed to join them at the table.

"I'm sure you'll all be happy to know that not only will Caleb be ready to switch rooms tonight, but will be able to walk without compromising any injuries to do it." The doctor smiled, bursting with pride and taking a small bow, "I am nothing short of a miracle worker."

"Alright si'down ya ego." Bobby snorted patting the man on the shoulder, "I'm sure he'll be kissin' your feet enough for all of us."

Meyer nodded in agreement and plopped down with a satisfied sigh, beginning to load up a plate, "Oh and Sam, he wanted me to tell you he wanted to talk when you got a chance." He added, clearly trying to make the statement sound like an afterthought.

Sam's fork paused halfway to his mouth and then slowly descended back to the plate, "About what?"

Meyer shrugged before looking up at Sam, "Clear the air? Just to see you? I don't know. You don't have to go alone or anything, though I'm positive it's nothing to-"

"There's no way in hell he's going alone." Dean interrupted, his voice void of anger, but final and certain nonetheless, making the statement nothing but obvious.

Meyer sighed while Sam shot him a mildly irritated glare.

"Hey, this is one issue I don't care if you guys call me overprotective for. I _am_, I'll own it. It's not changing any time soon so deal." Dean shot off before stuffing his mouth with a ridiculous heap of mashed potatoes and rib.

Sam was too distracted by his brother's chipmunk cheeks and the squelching sound of his chewing to argue. Meyer simply laughed and told the boys he'd be waiting for them after dinner.

After a lot of stalling on Sam's part – pushing the food on his plate around, locking himself in the bathroom for a solid fifteen minutes, and sipping languidly on a water bottle after a sudden bout of unquenchable thirst – the two brother's were finally standing outside of their bedroom door, Caleb just on the other side.

"Come on dude we can't stand here all night, you're not supposed to be on your feet anyway. Let's _go_." Dean urged quietly, "I'm right here, what are you so nervous about?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know Dean, it's weird okay!" He finally hissed, turning on his brother, "He probably just wants to see for himself what a freak I am. I didn't plan on anyone besides you three ever seeing me like this." He deflated and turned away, jerkily rubbing a hand over his mouth. "Whatever it's fine let's just get it over with."

"Sam," Dean advanced stopping his brother with a gentle hand on his forearm, "I'm sorry. I didn't think about that, I'm so used to it I don't notice anymore." He shrugged a shoulder, running a light hand over Sam's belly, well hidden under one of the many oversized sweatshirts he'd been wearing since starting to show. "We can wait a minute if you need. Or…you don't even have to go in at all. I can go see what he wants." Dean offered in apology.

"No it's fine. Really, I'm making a big deal out of nothing. We can go." Sam nodded trying to push past his brother.

"You sure?"

Sam nodded and took a quick breath before rapping his knuckles softly on the dark, fading wood. A muffled 'come in' could be heard from the other side before he turned the knob and shouldered through the door.

"Hey Sam." Caleb greeted warmly, laying back in bed with the TV remote in his hand and the empty plate from dinner on his lap. He quickly cleared the food and sat up straighter, shutting of the television as the boys entered. Sam timid, Dean defiant.

"Dean," Caleb acknowledged moments later, not the least bit surprised the older brother had joined Sam in coming to meet him. "It's been a while Sam. At least, since I saw you when I could remember our conversation the next day." Caleb conceded with a rueful, embarrassed grin.

Dean and Sam nodded in sync, both taking a seat on the unoccupied bed. Sam subtly tried to pull the sweatshirt away from his body as he sat, his cheeks burning briefly as he caught Caleb's gaze flashing down at the movement.

"Yeah, you were pretty out of it." Sam agreed softly, unable to hide the tension vibrating his words.

Caleb tried to give a smile as he nodded, but it was obviously strained and his eyes swept down Sam's body once more. Sam could feel Dean tensing beside him.

It was awkwardly quiet for a handful of seconds as Sam sat like a statue perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes glued to the floor and Caleb's struggling to avoid Sam's belly, just visible under his clothes.

"Okay I think we can all agree this is officially uncomfortable," Dean finally interjected into the silence, "Caleb did you ask him up here for a reason or just to stare all night?"

Caleb seemed to finally realize he was ogling and shook himself subtly before looking up at to Sam's face, noticing the red tinge to his cheeks, "I'm sorry Sam," He apologized hastily, grimacing before pinching the bridge of his nose, "I didn't ask you up here to make you feel like a spectacle, I just..."

"I know," Sam answered quietly, "Its fine, can't blame you for looking." He shrugged before pausing, "But, is that…the only reason I'm here or…"

"No Sam, no 'course not. I- I wanted to talk to you just, to, kind of clear the air I guess. Make sure you knew – you have no reason to be scared of me." His earnest gaze dashed to Dean before landing on Sam once more, "I know you guys were reluctant to trust me with this, and you were right to keep your guard up – there _are_ hunters out there who would see this as some kind of potential case – but you should know I'm not one them. The only people in this situation that deserve my gun are the psychos that did this to you."

Caleb inhaled deeply and exhaled his anger before deciding to continue, "And I wanted to apologize for barging in on your lives in the middle of all this." He said with a sheepish chuckle, "It's all kind of a blur, me gettin' over here and most everything between then and a few days ago - he kept me pretty heavily medicated for most of it - but I know I've caused a lot of drama and stress for you two, so I'm sorry. The last thing I want is to be the cause of any more."

Sam's heart was racing by the time Meyer had finished; the utter relief flooding his system made his head light and his eyes glassy. A shy smile danced at his lips before he gained the courage to meet Caleb's anxious eyes, "It's alright Caleb. You have no idea…how good it feels to hear you say all that. Thank you."

Caleb sighed his reprieve, grinning at the boys before shaking his head at the thanks, "I just wanted to set the record straight, don't thank me. But, if you could…protect me from your brother instead. Make sure I get out of here alive at some point?" He laughed eyeing Dean warily.

"What'd I do?" Dean bristled.

Caleb scoffed, "Only threated my life a couple hundred times…creatively too. I mean the mouth you got on you, man." He shook his head, snickering lightly before turning to Sam, "You're brother can be one scary son of a bitch when it comes to protecting you kid."

Sam smiled, timid and slow as his eyes slid to glance at Dean beside him: sitting there, covering up an imperceptible grin with his hand as he shrugged. "What can I say, I'm just a bad ass mother fucker."

Sam back-handed Dean's bicep as soon as the words were out, a reflex to his brother's more inappropriate antics, and rolled his eyes which inadvertently left Caleb laughing hard enough to shake his bed.

The hunter's easy amusement soon became contagious, lightening the last traces of tension from the room and Sam and Dean felt themselves relaxing into it.

Meyer emerged just a second later, peering in with a smile as he heard the three occupants giggling on the other side of the door.

"What's so funny?" The doctor asked, his grin widening as he stepped in.

Dean shrugged, "Ask him."

Caleb simply shook his head, "Just, you two." He shrugged, still gently smiling, "Been in battle too long I guess, its good to have some human company for a change."

Everyone sobered a little at the revelation; Meyer nodded, his eyes soft, "I think you deserve a little down time with the humans, especially after your latest catastrophe of a hunt."

"Hey," Caleb cried indignantly, "Got the bads didn't I?"

"Almost killed yourself doing it, but yes Caleb. You got the bads." Meyer placated, "Now you ready to get to your new room?"

Sam spoke before Caleb got the chance, "You changed the sheets down there right?"

Caleb's suddenly apprehensive eyes snapped back over to Sam, "What'd you do to the sheets?"

Sam recoiled with confusion, "Nothing, I was stuck in that bed for over a week, they only let me really shower once. I'm just looking out for you."

Caleb nodded smiling before he seemed to remember what he'd walked in on in the panic room that night that'd forced Sam to stay bed-ridden for over a week; his attention shifted from Sam's face to his belly.

"We changed the sheets, all the medical equipment's moved out of the way, the place is clean and waiting for you whenever your ready Caleb." Meyer interposed, defusing the tension as best he could as he knew Sam and Caleb would be skirting around each other for a while until they both accustomed themselves to the knew situation. He wanted the transition to be as smooth and stress-free as possible for Sam.

"Yeah, yeah I'm ready now if-"

Sam's quick inhale cut Caleb off. Dean immediately jumped to his brother's side, "Sam? You okay?"

"I'm fine Dean," Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, gently pushing to keep him at bay, "Just surprised me is all," Sam rubbed to the right of his belly button, "They uh, were getting restless, kicked kinda hard." His eyes flitted to Caleb, apprehensive.

The young hunter stared at Sam's stomach, the spot where his hand pressed against the fabric of his sweatshirt, displaying the outline of his belly for the first time since he'd come in.

Meyer kept his stare fixed on Caleb as the hunter absorbed the new evidence of the babies' impossible existence with stricken awe in his wide eyes. "Wow," He breathed inaudibly, his eyes flickering up toward Sam before landing back on his stomach, "They…they kick? You can feel them?"

Meyer smiled at the hunter's stunned curiosity as Sam diffidently nodded.

"That's normal for this stage in a pregnancy Caleb," The doctor chimed in softly before his brow knit, something crossing his mind.

"And that reminds me Sam, can't believe I almost forgot." His head shook, "Before we move Caleb downstairs, I'd like to borrow you down there to talk about one quick test I didn't get a chance to run earlier. Won't take more than half an hour if we do it. You wanna come down?" He turned to Caleb, "Don't try anything too strenuous before I'm back, alright?"

Caleb's brow was furrowed over quizzical eyes as he nodded, watching Meyer place a hand on Sam's back to usher him out, the boy's face just as confused as his.

"What – uh, okay." Sam agreed as he stood and Dean rose to join them, looking at Meyer with slight unease. Sam spun back toward Caleb, "I guess I'll see you in a bit. Thanks for being so…understanding and everything. It really takes a lot of stress off."

Caleb nodded, fixing his features into something kinder as he waved off the thanks once more. Dean just shot him a quick half-smile before following after his brother and disappearing behind the door.

"What test Meyer?" Sam asked as they were heading down the stairs.

"It's nothing to worry about, just a more thorough check on the babies' health. Make sure nothing's out of order. Let's talk about it more downstairs. It has its risks, so it's your choice whether or not to have it done." The doctor answered with ease; the explanation put Sam's nerves on edge.

"You think something's wrong with them?" Dean piped in.

Meyer shook his head, "No, everything so far has looked good on the sonograms." He answered as they took the last steps into the basement.

"What's this about then?"

They all entered the panic room. Meyer shut the door before answering. "Look boys, no matter how much I stress not to worry about this, I know you won't listen to me so I'll just say now, the chances of anything being wrong are _low_. But, due to the circumstances, not as low as they would be normally."

Sam and Dean continued staring with wide eyes, expectant for more explanation.

"You boys are related," The doctor continued gently, "That alone makes these babies at higher risk for disease and…other complications. Add that to the instability of the situation...I just want to be sure they're completely healthy. This test will tell us if they have any defects or disorders, Down syndrome for example. In a few cases there are treatments I can give to help them, if there's even anything wrong."

Sam deflated with a sigh as he sat heavily onto the bed; Dean rubbed along his forehead, hunching in on himself as he took in the new piece of information.

"And the blows keep comin'." He muttered, shaking his head with a hand over his mouth, taking a few steps before joining Sam on the bed.

"It's not a complicated procedure and the results should be back soon if we do decide to do it, I'll have to send them to a colleague of mine with access to-"

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? If you thought this could be a problem why didn't you tell us? Hell why didn't we get this test done months ago?" Dean snarled, whipping around to face the doctor, his eyes blazing with restrained rage.

"Calm down Dean, like I said chances are still low that anything's wrong at all. And I didn't mention it earlier because to get the best results the test should be done now, not months ago. And to warn you about this would've only caused both of you months of worrying instead of days."

Dean's jaw was set as he stared down the doctor, but after a few moments of huffing his frustration, he admitted defeat and sat back down, his head hanging low while he pinched the bridge of his nose. Sam, who had been sitting quietly throughout the exchange, finally spoke up, "What are the risks?"

"Infection, which can lead to miscarriage. But with the technology now and the fact that you're living with a doctor the chances of that are low. One in something like 2,000."

Sam looked down, thinking that over. "What are the chances either of them have something?"

"I'm not sure, I just know they're higher than normal."

Dean bit the inside of his lip, sliding his eyes shut as Sam's began to water. It was painfully silent for almost a full minute while Meyer let the boys think over the decision.

Sam blinked his eyes clear and sniffed before looking up at his brother, "What do you think?"

Dean sucked in a sharp breath and held it a moment before releasing and grabbing his brother's hand, "I think that…if we do this, whatever the results are won't change anything: how we feel about them or whether or not we're going to keep them," He disclosed shakily, "So I would say no, but I know it would kill me waiting around for months to find out if they're healthy. I think we should be as prepared as we can be."

Sam rolled his bottom lip under his teeth, blinking his wet lashes again and nodded, "Okay," He rasped, "Then we should do it." He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, rubbing soothingly as another tear fell.

Meyer nodded sympathetically at the young boy, admiring the boys' strength in the face of so much adversity. "Okay, just lay back on the bed and relax, I'll get everything ready."

Sam began shuffling back on the mattress; Dean laid a hand on his knee, smiling as earnestly as he could manage and sending what he hoped was assurance before focusing back on Meyer, "How does the test work?"

The doctor was just opening a drawer full of different size syringes when Dean asked, his eyes dropping to the needles Meyer was sorting through. The doctor sighed and turned to the protective sibling, "It's called _amniocentesis_. I'm gonna take a few samples of amniotic fluid, one from each baby. Nothing too major, just two little pricks and were done."

Dean's lips thinned into a tight line before he turned back to Sam, moving up the bed to sit at his hip, trying to project all the encouragement he had. He rubbed along the side of Sam's arm, moved up to brush his bangs from his eyes and landed on his shoulder, rubbing the tension out. Sam glanced up from under his lashes, his lips twitched a quick half smile and his eyes shot back to his lap, to his hands picking at the dead skin around his nails.

Dean laid his hand over Sam's, getting his attention once more, "Stop. You're gonna make them bleed."

Meyer picked up on Sam's distress too, "Don't be nervous Sam, they're going to be fine." He stepped up to the bed, wheeling over a tray too tall for Sam to see along with the ultrasound machine. "I'm going to keep an image of them up throughout the test, make sure I don't stab anything important." He smiled trying to crack the heavy tension buzzing in the room.

Sam just lifted his heavy layers and pushed down his sweats until his stomach was on display, then grabbed Dean's hand and let the heat of the familiar touch soothe the blossoming ache behind his eyes and the stiff beat of his heart.

Meyer began by cleaning the exposed skin with wipes and laying down sterile sheets over his clothes. Then the doctor squirted a glob of icy gel onto Sam's stomach and his muscles all jerked at once. Dean rubbed his thumb into the back of his hand, calming his twitchy, anxious body.

"Sorry, 's a little chilly." Meyer's eyes bounced up to Sam and then back to his work.

"Always is." Sam shrugged, concealing his stress, "'S okay."

Meyer grinned minutely, never looking away from his own hands as he placed the wand against Sam's taut skin and spread the gel, seeking out the position of their babies. "Well, looks like boy wonder A is up here, closer to your ribs," Meyer said as he held the wand over the baby, showing his balled up position – tiny hands up around his face and legs bent around his stomach, "And B's over here, a little under him and to the left," He moved the wand down by Sam's belly button, showing the second child in much the same position, but facing them.

Sam was all wide eyes and watery laughs as he looked over the two perfect babies inside him, his fears pushed aside as he basked in seeing them again. Dean couldn't suppress the crack of his smile if he tried, seeing their tiny faces and even smaller hands and fingers moving in his brother. He didn't know what he'd do if anything was wrong with either of them: they'd already lost one baby, he knew he wouldn't survive something like it again.

Meyer's clanking around on the metal tray finally roused Dean from his thoughts and he looked up to see a frighteningly long needle in the doctor's hand. His eyes were immediately on Sam's face, assessing his reaction, and right away saw the panic he was praying wouldn't be there.

Meyer apparently noticed too, "I know needles aren't your favorite Sam, I'm sorry. Take a couple deep breaths, try to relax."

Sam shook out his shoulders, finally tearing his eyes away from the gleaming length of metal, "I'm fine, 's not a big deal. Just, try and make it quick." He suggested breathily, letting his head fall back on the piled up pillows and turning away from the doctor, getting the sight out of his peripheral vision.

"It's alright Sammy," Dean whispered with loyalty, giving his brother a warm smile and brushing a few fingers over his shoulder. Meyer positioned the needle next to the wand and Sam's eyes fell shut, his grip tightening around Dean's hand.

"Quick pinch." They heard Meyer warn before the needle was plunging in and Sam's face twitched into a flickering grimace.

Dean tensed in his own form of pain watching the needle dimple his brother's skin in jerky slides before it slowed, "A little pressure," Meyer warned before something gave and Sam gasped, panting as his eyes shot open and Meyer attached the vial, filling it with a strange pale yellow liquid.

Dean watched Sam's body tense and his veins rise in his straining arms as they gripped him and the sheets. "It's normal to feel some cramping, just hang in there." The doctor encouraged, pressing a little firmer against Sam's stomach.

"Shh easy Sam, try to keep still." Dean instructed quietly through the swelling in his throat and Sam let out a slow whimper, one of the only sounds in the world able to cut Dean to the quick. "I know it hurts, you're almost done." Dean whispered, stroking Sam's arm.

The vial was almost completely full when Sam let out a stung-out groan and Meyer looked back at the screen, seeing the baby he was taking fluid from slowly kicking inside.

"He's moving," Sam informed unnecessarily, his voice a little panicked and brow knitting as his head flopped back to the pillow with a soft grunt.

"It's alright he's not close to the needle. We're almost done."

The jostling pulled at the sight of the injection and Sam spit a few quick curses before the doctor was done and rapidly retracting his equipment.

Sam pressed his eyes shut, drawing in calm, deep breaths as Meyer pushed a cotton ball to the dollop of blood leaking from the small puncture.

"Stomach's still cramping." Sam whispered, lashes brushing over his cheekbones while Meyer taped down a bandage.

"That's normal. You're going to be a little sore for a few days. I'll try to get through the next quick as I can." Meyer said, getting a fresh needle and an empty vial.

Dean's hand grabbed at Sam's bicep, his other rubbing roughly at his forehead in irritation, sick of being side-lined and helpless. "The more relaxed you are the less likely they are to squirm, I know its uncomfortable when they do. They sense your anxiety." The doctor informed, swabbing Sam's stomach to sterilize the skin again.

Sam nodded submissively, trying to release his stress with the air that rushed from his lungs. Dean had Sam's hand in both of his, caressing up his forearm when Sam hunched forward with a shocked wheeze, holding his stomach in obvious discomfort. "What the hell?" He breathed, "Ow, what's going on?"

Meyer immediately moved Sam's hands from where they were pressed to the under side of his belly, replacing them with one of his own and softly prodding the area as he looked at the image on the screen. Dean was instantly on alert, watching with bated breath as Sam's grimace tightened and Meyer's hand examined. The doctor deflated, letting out a short sigh of what Dean thought was relief, "Looks like a Braxton Hicks contraction." He reported quietly, removing his hand to massage Sam's shoulder, "It'll subside in a second, hang on."

"Braxton Hicks?" Dean questioned, relaxing the hand Sam clasped so his brother could squeeze.

"Yeah, they're nothing to be concerned about. I didn't expect them to start this early – he's only 26 weeks, they usually start around 28 or nine – but still, it's not harmful to him or the babies. It's the body's natural way of slowly preparing for labor, we probably set it off with the prodding around." Meyer assured the boys =, still gently kneading Sam's shoulder.

"Preparing for labor?" Sam croaked, releasing his constricted muscles to sink further into the pillows as the false contraction waned, "What do you mean, you said I'm only 26 weeks."

"I know, you're not going into labor don't worry. These contractions shouldn't be painful, they're simply meant to work the muscles you're going to need once you are."

"That hurt though." Sam complained, swallowing reflexively, "Are those gonna keep happening until I have them?"

Meyer's brow pinched in pity, "It's hard to say how often they'll occur or how intense they'll be. Some people start experiencing them at two months, others not at all and some report that they're uncomfortable, others that they hardly notice them."

Sam's eyes dimmed and his nostrils flared, he turned toward Dean, "I take it back." He muttered angrily, "I can't wait till they're ready to come out."

Dean breathed a consolatory laugh, "I'm sorry Sammy." He cupped his forearm, stroking the soft skin. "It's gotta suck."

Meyer patted his shoulder, "Just a couple more months and this will all be a distant memory," He comforted, "Okay shall we get the last of it? Sooner we do it the sooner its done."

Sam moaned but agreed nonetheless, focusing all his energy on staying relaxed as he let the doctor proceed once more. Meyer had to find the correct position for the needle again, moving the wand around before pinpointing the right placement and jabbing in the needle with a few steady jerks. Sam's head pushed back into the pillow, his eyes tightening ever so slightly.

Dean noticed Meyer wasn't grabbing the vial to attach to the needle though, the doctor's lips thinning as his grip tightened on the metal. Sam's breath subtly quickened, his hand clasping more forcefully around Dean's. "Ow," Sam exhaled slowly, "Why…'s it cramping so bad?" He grunted, working to keep his head turned away from what the doctor was doing.

"I'm sorry Sam, hang on." Meyer gave another light push against the needle and Sam yelped in a breath before groaning lowly.

"Fuck," He spit, "What the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded, trying to grip the underside of his belly with a free hand before Dean caught him again.

"You're experiencing another contraction," Meyer informed with concentration, "It's taking a little prompting to get all the way in, try to stay relaxed."

"Thought you were in, feels like you're in." Sam wheezed keeping his eyes locked on Dean's who was watching the doctor intently, everything about his posture distressed as the atmosphere of the room thickened with tension.

"Ow, ow, ow," Sam chanted as the pressure intensified, unable to help looking down at what Meyer was doing and seeing his white-knuckle grip on the needle, holding it with steady pressured jabs, "Oh my God push it in or pull it out." He cried, his eyes watering compulsorily.

Meyer didn't take his eyes away from the screen, "Shh easy Sam, I know." He muttered, "We're almost there."

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and let it out with a shudder as Meyer finally got through, a few kneejerk tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. The doctor quickly secured the vial and began sucking the liquid into it.

Dean continued helplessly soothing him as the second vial filled, rubbing slow circles into his skin. "It's okay, you're almost done Sammy." He swiped the tear before it reached Sam's temple.

"Please hurry." Sam breathed, his voice high and strained and breaking Dean's heart as his head swayed on the pillow, falling toward his brother. He brushed light fingers through Sam's hair, providing as much comfort as he could as he hushed him calmly.

It was another twenty seconds before the vial was full and Dean watched with relief as the doctor pulled the needle out quickly, a thick bead of blood escaping the puncture before Meyer pressed a cotton ball firmly against Sam's skin. He quickly freed his hands and rubbed at the small hole, swiping the blood away with the damp fabric before snatching a fresh one and taping it down tight.

It was only Sam's sigh of relief that allowed Dean to relax, once Meyer stopped irritating the lesion and bandaged it. His own chest deflated as Sam's did.

"Seems we hit every snag we could on that one. I'm sorry Sam, you did really well, thank you for bearing with me." Meyer praised, "Promise I won't put you through anything more for at least a few weeks. I'll get these off to the lab first thing in the morning." The doctor let a hand rub at Sam's shoulder as he watched the boy recuperate, holding his stomach protectively, "You take a few minutes and then we'll get you moved up into your room again. I'll go work on getting Caleb out of there for you guys."

Sam mustered up the most convincing smile he could manage, though it was closer to a grimace, and nodded. Meyer put the samples in storage and left the boys alone to recover together, as he always did after any invasive procedure.

As soon as Meyer was gone, Dean carefully laid down next to his brother, nuzzling into his neck to press light kisses across his smooth skin. His hand covered the square of Sam's lax jaw, the tips of his fingers illuminated against the dark of his brother's silky locks, running lazily through them. "You okay?" He grated through the tension in his throat, "Fuck this shit's not goin' easy on you." He observed, shaking his head as he stroked the side of Sam's belly, "I hate these things, stupid tests and procedures and bullshit. Wish I could do it for you." His lips brushed against Sam's light stubble before laying down another chaste kiss.

Sam's head lolled against the pillow, "It's okay. I'm okay. Stomach hurts a little, but mostly just tired," He husked, "Too much adrenaline. I'm crashing."

Dean quirked a sympathetic half smile watching Sam's heavy lids flutter, "Yeah I'd say so. Why don't we get you upstairs and you can crash in our bed."

Sam sighed, all the air whizzing from his lungs as his body collapsed with a great huff, his answer to the journey upstairs.

"I know you're tired. Come on," Dean slid an arm under Sam's neck, "all the more reason to go. I'll help you."

Sam swallowed audibly and groaned as Dean slowly pulled him into a sitting position, his hand going to his belly.

"What's wrong?" Dean stopped moving, still helping him to stay upright.

Sam shook his head, "Sore…they don't like it much."

"'M sorry," Dean's hand covered Sam's, feeling the two gently writhing bodies underneath, "Meyer picked up some of that cream stuff today, it's supposed to have something in it that'll help relax all of you. I'll give 'em a little massage, they'll fall asleep." Dean compromised and Sam tilted his head back to look him in the eye, his bangs tickling his lashes as he smiled sleepily and leaned forward into his lips.

"Thank you." Sam mouthed into the kiss, "Despite all this, today still had its moments." He disclosed tiredly, his mind flashed back to their bath, "Especially this afternoon, I missed you." Sam's hand gently squeezed the length of Dean's thigh, eliciting a soft sigh from his brother's lips. He nodded against Sam's forehead.

"So glad you're out of this damn bed." He pulled back an inch, "C'mon, let's go kick Caleb out of ours."

Sam nodded and let Dean help him the rest of the way, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress and standing on shaky legs, letting most of his weight fall to his brother. "You good?" Dean asked, "Dizzy or anything?"

Sam clung to his brother and shook his head slowly, hand supporting under his stomach.

"Alright let's go. Take it slow though, tell me if you need to stop."

Dean got them up both flights of stairs safely albeit sluggishly as every few steps Sam had to stop at the babies' movement. Dean was more than happy when they were finally at the edge of their bed and he could lower Sam to the mattress, letting him relax again.

The boys bypassed Meyer and Caleb at the foot of the bed when they entered, spotting the doctor helping Caleb relearn his balance on a crutch.

"Jesus Sam, what'd he do to you?" Caleb exclaimed once he took in Sam's haggard appearance, "Quick test my ass, you look like hell."

"Well it's good to see you too Caleb." Sam croaked, letting Dean help wriggle the blankets out from under him. "Thank you."

"I had to take a few samples of fluid from the kids," Meyer informed, "Had about every hiccup you could think of." He shook his head, "He's entitled to look however he wants right now." He said, sympathy in his eyes as he approached the young man settling in the bed over.

Caleb grimaced distastefully and shuddered, his free hand going to his own stomach as the doctor leaned down and asked Sam if he could take a look, gesturing to his belly.

Sam's eyes shot over to Caleb, uneasy about baring himself in front of the hunter.

"I can leave if you need me to." Caleb offered, quickly realizing the reason for Sam's hesitation.

Ironically, it was Caleb's offer of privacy that made Sam all right without it, "No, it's fine. Wait for Meyer before you go anywhere."

Caleb shrugged and sat down on his former bed as Meyer slowly lowered the sheets and lifted his layers revealing the two bandages on Sam's stomach, spotted faintly red. The doctor noticed the second puncture beginning to bruise and winced caringly.

Caleb's pitying moan drew Sam and Dean's attention to the bed over, "Damn Meyer what were you doing to the poor kid down there?"

"Inflicting as much pain as possible, I revel in it." Meyer sardonically replied before shaking his head, "I'll get you some Tylenol." He told Sam with a soft pat on his hand before moving back over to Caleb. "You ready to come downstairs?"

Caleb nodded enthusiastically, "Never been more ready doc. No offense to the room, but bein' holed up for a week in it…" He shook his head and grunted, standing and situating himself on the crutch.

"I hear ya." Sam said with a wave, Caleb chuckled and nodded.

"Rest up Sam. Dean, keep an eye on your brother." Caleb ordered around a smirk, "I'll see you boys tomorrow."

"Night Caleb."

As soon as the two were gone Dean flipped off his shirt and shucked off his pants, climbing under the covers with Sam.

"You sure you're okay. That second one looks pretty shitty." Dean said as he scooted closer and lifted Sam's shirt again, inspecting the bruise.

Sam looked down with him, brushing his fingers lightly over the thick bandage. "It stings a little, cramping's worse but nothing I can't handle."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath before letting it out with a soft hum, "Spoke to soon," He held his hand over the bandage, "A's making it his mission to draw this out as long as he can." He explained feeling a foot kick up next to the bruised flesh again.

Dean grimaced, cringing and quickly whisked himself from bed to retrieve the stretch mark cream from the bathroom. "Here, lay back and relax, I'll try to get him calmed down. Hopefully they'll fall asleep so you can."

They both heard Meyer knock as Dean climbed back onto the mattress.

"Come in." Dean called, sitting back and setting the jar on the nightstand.

Meyer entered and set down a tall glass of ice water along with a bottle of Tylenol on Sam's side of the bed. "Just take two at a time every few hours for as long as you need. And drink lots of water with them." He set down a tube of unidentifiable cream, a box of gloves and a packet of wipes. He turned to Dean. "I want you to watch in case Sam wants you to do this later."

"This second injection is going to be especially tender, so this will help with some of that discomfort," The doctor held up the tube, "And the alcohol wipes are to clean the site before you administer it. Wash your hands and put on the gloves." Meyer quickly did what he instructed, returning with gloved hands, "Have Sam remove the bandage so you don't dirty your gloves," Sam slowly pulled the thick cotton off the bruise, revealing a red smear over discoloring skin. Dean hissed, "This'll sting for just a sec, then it's going to feel a lot better." Meyer spoke to Sam, taking the sterile wipe and cleaning the blood away delicately; Sam just took in a steady breath before Meyer had the open tube and was squirting a blob onto his fingers, "Then _gently_ spread it over the bruise."

Almost immediately the sting was gone and the throb abating as Meyer mellifluously took care of the damage. "Better?" He asked, watching Sam moan his appreciation.

"So much." He whispered, falling back to the bed. Meyer hurried through re-bandaging before standing once more and throwing away the gloves. "You can use that as often as you'd like for as long as you need."

Dean smiled in gratitude, "Thanks Meyer."

"Least I can do," He waved off, "Take those, it'll help with the cramping." He motioned to the pills, "And if they're jumping around enough it's hurting you, I'd use that cream I picked up today. Maybe try singing to them too, I remember when my wife was pregnant with Rachel it worked like a charm, put them to sleep almost every time. At this point they recognize your voices, so it's soothing for them to hear."

Sam smiled at that and Dean nodded his thanks before the doctor bid them goodnight and closed the door behind him.

Dean picked the jar of cream up again and pulled the covers down to Sam's hips, helping him pull his shirts all the way off. He made sure the bandages were secure before he remembered the Tylenol and made Sam take a couple. Once he was laying back down Dean scooped up a generous glob and warmed it in his hands.

They each came down, yielding against Sam's tender belly and leisurely spreading the smooth lotion over his strained skin, "Feel okay?"

Sam nodded and slid his hand up Dean's forearm, pulling him down into a long kiss, "I love you."

"You too." Dean answered confusedly, a little out of breath, "What was that for?"

Sam shook his head, "Just you." He answered simply, "I swear, sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in this shit. One thing to worry about after another, we never get a break. But when there's moments like this, just you and me with a second to breathe…I don't know, I feel okay again. Just wanted to thank you I guess."

"You're such a sap," Dean laughed, ducking his head before pressing one more kiss to Sam's lips, "But I know exactly what you mean."

He leaned back again and resumed rubbing the pacifying lotion over Sam's stomach, watching as his brother's lashes began to fall to his cheeks and he relaxed under Dean's massage.

Just as Sam was drifting to sleep a soft trickle of sound began flittering through their door and Dean recognized the same country music station from this afternoon playing in Meyer's room. Dean let his head bow to his chest as he let out a half-amused half-irritated sigh and checked to make sure the quiet sounds weren't waking Sam up.

When he was satisfied his brother was peacefully asleep he returned his attention to his hands, still rubbing in the excess cream over Sam's pliant flesh and feeling one of the babies move into his hand up by Sam's ribs. He quickly glanced up at his brother, making sure the jostle hadn't disturbed him, before he slid farther down the bed so he was laying between Sam's legs.

He started up a nameless tune, humming softly to the belly as his hands stroked the skin.

And then that song came on again, the one Meyer had been singing word for word earlier that afternoon.

Dean chuckled to himself, remembering the scene the doctor had made swaying through the kitchen. He gradually quieted as the lyrics began though and listened closer this time, reluctant to admit he was sucked into the story as soon as the man's deep, rich voice sifted into the room.

"_She put him out, like the burning end of a midnight cigarette. She broke his heart. He spent his whole life trying to forget."_

Dean felt another soft jab into his left hand this time as the second baby apparently woke from the other's moderate squirming. He silently exhaled with sympathy, hoping his brother would get the rest he needed before taking up Meyer's idea and softly beginning to hum along with the simple tune, praying it would still their stirring.

"_She watched him drink his pain away a little at a time, but he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind, until the night_…"

Dean remembered the chorus from hearing it earlier and sang the best he could with the peaceful voice still drifting in through the door.

"He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger. And finally drank away her memory…Life is short but this time it was bigger, than the strength he had to get up off his knees…" Dean stumbled along the lyrics, finding he didn't remember any more and going back to simply humming.

"_We found him with his face down in the pillow. With a note that said 'I'll love her till I die.' And when we buried him beneath the willow, the angels sang a Whiskey Lullaby. La, la, la, la, la, la, la… La, la, la, la, la, la, la."_

Dean joined in with the la, la-ing, much to his chagrin, but the babies were slowly calming so he continued singing.

"_The rumors flew, but no body knew how much she blamed herself…for years and years, she tried to hide the Whiskey on her breath. She finally drank her pain away a little at a time, but she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind…"_

Dean joined in for what he knew of the chorus again, "Until the night, she put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger and finally drank away his memory. Life is short, but this time it was bigger, than the strength she had to get up off her knees…" He kept his hands against Sam's warm stomach, feeling almost no movement under them as he sang, beaming proudly before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the underside of Sam's stomach.

He kept humming just in case they weren't completely asleep yet, unwilling to let any distraction wake them again.

"_We found her with her face down in the pillow, clinging to his picture for dear life. We laid her next to him beneath the willow, while the angels sang a Whiskey lullaby…" _

Listening to the lyrics, he vaguely wondered what it was about the song that Meyer obviously liked so much – it was seriously depressing – but the thought was quickly disbanded as Sam shifted under him, snuffling until he stilled. Dean stopped humming and his eyes whipped up to Sam's face; he kept his body stock-still for a handful of seconds and was beginning to think he'd gotten away until a slow smile crept across his brother's lax features.

"You really singing a country song about lover's suicide right now?" Sam mumbled around the small grin, never opening his eyes.

Dean dropped his forehead to Sam's thigh, sighing dismally through a self-deprecating laugh.

"It's not my fault," Dean's voice was muffled against the comforter, "Meyer's the one playin' it." His head shook, "I plead the fifth." He said pushing himself up the bed to lay level with Sam again, "Sorry I woke you." His covered Sam's hand, his thumb caressing smooth circles to the inside of his wrist.

"Worth it to hear you sing that song," Sam whispered, his eyes closing again, "It's beautiful."

Dean shook his head and smiled at his brother drifting off again, disclosing things he probably wouldn't fully conscious.

"Plus you put them to sleep." Sam breathed, taking Dean's hand and placing it against his belly, covering it with his own. "Thank you."

Dean leaned forward, pushed his mouth to Sam's temple, and laid back into the pillows, breathing against his brother's soft locks and letting himself drift away into unconsciousness - the remnants of the song still spinning through his mind, lulling him to sleep.

"_And the Angels sang a whiskey lullaby…La, la, la, la, la, la, la."_


End file.
